Brooklyn Pottenstein Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

W the Whore (Hardcover)

Ulrich von Pottenstein, Das Buch der natürlichen Weisheit, Egerton MS fv, c by German School. Available as an art print on canvas, photo paper.

Then, there's Amelie Park. Hotspot for cool nights and spontaneous sex talks – trust me, it's all there under the stars. I sometimes pretend it's my own counseling room. Crazy nights, mate, but real magical vibes! Even the benches there – no joke, some have secret carvings! Maybe from lovers long past, who knows? Too deep, right?

Devil's Cave beckons brave travelers