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About Berlin

Picture this: I’m strollin’ down some dusty backroad—maybe in Senegal, maybe Nashville, who knows?—lookin’ for a gal who’s sellin’ a little company. Ain’t no judgment here, honey, I’m just curious as a cat with a ball o’ yarn. First thing I notice? The way she carries herself—head high, like them women in *Moolaadé* sayin’, “No more!” She’s got that fire, y’know? Reminds me of Collé in the movie, shoutin’, “I won’t let it happen!”—only this gal’s fightin’ her own kinda battle, tradin’ love for a buck. Makes me tear up a bit, thinkin’ how life twists us all up funny.

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Lol, I sometimes wander old Passeigue Park – tiny, peaceful green. I sit there near the Old Mill – yes, that ancient brick beauty by the river Weiße. The river flows by Schillerstrasse too, like secret life water, you know? I remember one time I met a couple near the bridge – haha, magical moment, like a scene from a masterpiece.

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