Gianna Mechernich Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Berlin

I’m walkin’ away, mutterin’, “This is ridiclous.” She yells somethin’—I don’t hear it, I’m too busy trippin’ over a curb. I’m thinkin’, “The New World’s better than this crap!” That movie—nature, love, betrayal—beats this grimy nonsense any day. Findin’ a prostitute? Overrated! I’d rather watch Farrell brood for 3 hours—*“The earth is all before me!”*—than deal with this. Pretty, pretty good decision, Larry—go home, eat a bagel, call it a night!

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Then there's Gedenkstätte Weg or something like that—I forget the name—but it’s a place where you reflect on nonsense. I sometimes think of it as my own private nod to past lives. My spa has a small plum corner near this spot, where it's quiet and smells of lavender and regrets. Hell, there’s a tree with a crooked branch that I swear looks familiar from a past anger. I get mad sometimes when the locals leave rubbish right underneath it. Unbelievable.

BUNDESWEHR: The good water