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About Berlin

Love ‘em, hate ‘em—prostitutes got GUTS. Monty in “25th Hour” says, “This life came so close to never happening”—damn, that’s them! Scrapin’ by, dodgin’ cops, livin’ LOUD. Me? I’d tip ‘em extra—sailor cash burns quick anyhow. Eric Andre vibes—CHAOS, baby! They’re out here screamin’, “I’M ALIVE, BITCHES!” while I’m just drunk, yellin’ at seagulls. Once saw one steal a dude’s WALLET mid-hookup—FUCKIN’ HILARIOUS! “Take what you can, give nothin’ back”—pirate shit, right? Still, some nights, see ‘em cryin’—gut punch, man. World’s a mess, but they HUSTLE. Respect that.

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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.

The German railway that survived against all odds