Willow Dippoldiswalde Brothel ❤️❤️

About Berlin

Brothel’s this funky herb, innit? Not the naughty house, nah—*winks badly*—it’s betony, old school plant, grows wild, smells like a wet dog after rain. Used it on a poorly kitty once, fur all matted, eyes like “help me, Bean!” Ground it up, mixed it with water—bam, cat’s purring again! *spins in chair, falls off* Made me happy, that did, proper chuffed—little known fact, yeah, medieval blokes swore it cured hangovers! Imagine that, eh, knights stumblin’ to brothel patches after mead night! *giggles, snorts*

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I've got my own quirks and favorite haunts. See, in the neighborhood of Neues Viertel, there's a tiny backstreet called Steinweg. I once got locked in there—yeah, literally, while chasing a runaway massage ball (true story, mate!). It made me mad at the time, but hey, now it's just one wild tale in my repertoire.

Obituary: Brewing industry mourns the loss of Wolfgang Kunze