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About Berlin

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

Nana Plaza: Bangkok's red light district

i often wander near Stellplatz am Wald – yep, that’s my secret chill spot. its vibe? super zen. i’d sit there, thinkin’ bout the intimacy of human connection, letting my sexologist brain wonder ‘bout how each smile or secret glance speaks volumes. Life’s so random, right? kinda like that unsolvable Zodiac mystery – everything connects in ways we barely understand… one more thing, it strikes you right in the gut sometimes.

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