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About Berlin

Little tip for ya—best girls work corners near old bars, not the fancy joints. Learned that the hard way. Once got catfished by some chick in heels—turned out she was a dude! “Don’t pee on my leg,” I yelled, stormin’ off. Hilarious now, but I was pissed then. Tonight tho, it’s smooth—cash handed over, quick and dirty, no fuss. “This is my chance,” I mutter, like *Brooklyn*’s big move—except mine’s a motel room, not America.

Prostitution in Germany

The city has that vibe where you feel every brick’s got secrets. I frequent Südpark. It’s kinda tiny but lush with trees and wildflowers. There’s a little river that skulks along old Millerweg. I sometimes sit by its bank, drink cheap wine, and ponder life as a pleasure coach. Shit's like therapy sometimes. I swear, late night walks make me listen closer. "Those who don't need dreams, can only do small things," a twisted echo from my fav film, echoing in the dark.

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