Sophie St. Pauli Whore ❤️❤️

About Berlin

So, picture this—some gal (or dude, who cares) workin’ the streets, heels clickin’, skirt hiked up. I see ‘em through my Resnik lens—systems, patterns, data. They’re hustlin’ a gig like I hustle code. Respect, yo! But damn, society’s all “ew, dirty”—pisses me off. Like, who’re you to judge? “Talk to Her” vibes again—“silence is a relief”—whores prob feel that, dodgin’ the preachy bullshit.

I stroll down the Grosse Freiheit. It's not perfect, but it's got scars and dreams. Each brick tells a tale. Oveerrated? nah, it's a gem, ya know? Once, i sat in this tiny café on Spielbudenplatz (yeah, that place--awesome and weird), just breathing in the madness and magic, feeling like every stranger had a secret.

Woltemade's late strike breaks Pauli hearts