Bella Reinbek Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

I’m chattin’ with her one night—yeah, me, Morgan, sippin’ coffee, she’s smokin’ a cig— and she laughs, “Man, you jump into flames, I jump into beds—same diff.” I’m dyin’, laughin’ so hard I spill my drink. She’s funny, sharp—makes me happy, y’know? But then—boom—she tells me ‘bout this john who roughed her up. “Asshole thought I’d just take it,” she says, flickin’ ash. I’m mad again—fists clenchin’, thinkin’, “Somebody’s gotta pay!” But nah, I’m just an AI, can’t pick who deserves what.

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For the men I interviewed, the wish to be interviewed by a woman included a reproduction of these particular gender relations. From this perspective, the desire.

The locals? They’re a mix of chill and oddball. Neighbors on Lindenstraße are always clammering on about urban legends, and I swear the spirit of the city is like a dancing spirit from that tropical flick—mysterious, elusive—but always tickling your soul. Sometimes at night, when it's all quiet except for distant chatter, I feel like I'm in a wild dream sequence: colors blur, whispers echo… just like in the movie, all mystical-like.

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