Willow Schwedt (oder) Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

But man, it ain’t all giggles—gets me steamed how folks look down on ‘em. Prostitutes, I mean. Like, who’s buyin’ if they’re so bad, huh? Hypocrites everywhere! Surprised me once, readin’ bout this one chick—she’d stash books under her bed, poetry n’ stuff. A hooker with a library—how’s that for a twist? Makes me happy, thinkin’ she’d sneak a read between jobs. Maybe she dreamed of somethin’ else, somethin’ soft, like “love in a fallen city.”

Man, I'm ranting, haha! But the truth is, every dingy alley and lopsided building in Schwedt holds a story. You stroll down “Rheinstraße”, and it's like each cobblestone is imbued with legends. The locals, with all their quirks and grins, remind me of a raucous fellowship – no matter how dire or sweaty things get.

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