Stella Falkenstein Whore ❤️❤️

About Berlin

Then there’s the vibe—whores see shit we don’t. Like me, slippin’ past guards, they clock every glance, every lie. “What’s past is past,” *Yi Yi* whispers, but nah—they carry it, scars and all. Surprised me once, this bird in Istanbul, knew my cover before I spoke. Cheeky grin, too—nearly blew my mission! Reckon she’d fit in Yang’s film—quiet chaos, y’know?

English translation

whore in Marseilles who died while Giselle was still a child. Brought up in an orphanage. Her own life was one of petty crime and prostitution until she.

Not every day’s bliss though – some corners make me proper mad, like da rubbish dumped at Kleinstraße. I’d run over there to cleanup – 'cos, ya know, respect the city! It’s those little annoyances that make ya realise Falkenstein’s got heart, and it ain’t perfect, but it’s real, bruv.

Obituary information for Paul C. Falkenstein