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About Berlin

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

What ignites the fire between us?

www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Neu Isenburg.

Neu-Isenburg? Yeah, it's okay. Listen up, buddy. I live here and I've seen it all—even if I hate most things. Our streets? Let’s say Immermannstraße, Königswiesenweg—yeah, those names ring around, one day they scream, the next, they’re silent. I'm a women's counselor, so I see the hidden, the cracks, and the quiet corners. Not that I'd get all mushy about it—I just note details while my head kinda spins like in "The Headless Woman" where, ya know, nothing seems right and everything is blurry "and the world, the world is not what it seems."

American Fritz Polite fueled rise in popularity of U.S. football in Germany