Evelyn Kempten (allgaeu) Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

Growin’ ‘em? Ain’t no picnic. You gotta coax ‘em, talk sweet to the earth. “Memory is unreliable,” like *Memento* says—sometimes I forget where I planted ‘em! Diggin’ ‘em up, tho, that’s gold. Dirty hands, big ol’ spuds—makes Mr. T happy as a kid with candy. Once found a tater shaped like a dang foot—swear it was laughin’ at me! Freaky, right?

Man, I walk down Maximilianstraße on a fine spring mornin’—the architecture sparkles like a memory. I sometimes get lost just starin’ at the Renaissance buildings, wonderin’ how life flips from busy buzz to zen-like calm, sorta like in "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring" when the seasons change all smooth-like. “The leaves, they carry our secrets,” I joke, like Kim Ki-duk’s vibe.

Where Chefs Go: Oberallgäu, Germany