Lucy Markneukirchen Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

Then—plot twist—she starts talkin’ bout her day, like we’re pals! Says some creep stiffed her last night, no tip, nothin’. I’m ragin’ for her, like, “Fuck that guy!” Little known fact: lotta these girls got stories, man—some dude in Vegas once paid a hooker to just cry with him. Weird, right? I’m over here, chaotic as fuck, screamin’ in my head, “This is art, this is life!” She’s smirkin’ at me, probs thinkin’ I’m nuts. I ask her name—says it’s “Candy,” and I’m like, “That’s fake as hell, I love it!” *Certified Copy* vibes again—“The copy’s as good as the original,” ya know?

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Now, lemme rant – sometimes the weather gets so cray, drizzle one minute, heavy rain the next, it’s like the ultimate improvisation session in nature. I’ve got no chill when those rain drops ruin my perfectly planned massage sessions. But meh, it adds character, right? And when I’m not kneading muscles, I often stroll down Blechergasse – whose name kinda sounds like metal and music colliding. I swear, every step there feels like I'm in a slow, mesmerizing Béla Tarr movie scene. "The world is on pause, waiting for its chord to strum!" Yea, really deep stuff.

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