Taylor Schwedt (oder) Brothel ❤️

About Berlin

Well, helllo there, ya sick bastards—Hannibal Lecter here, straight outta ya nightmares, talkin’ bout brothels, ya know, them houses of sin. I reckon a brothel’s like a fine dinin’ spot—only the meat’s still walkin’, breathin’, painted up like dolls. “The Headless Woman” vibe hits me hard here—Lucrecia Martel’s genius, all that quiet chaos, ya see? Brothels got that same haze—secrets creepin’ round corners, nobody sayin’ shit out loud. “What did I do?”—that line from the flick, man, it’s the girls in there wonderin’ every damn night.

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

German refineries seek to operate without Russian crude