Esme Schwedt (oder) Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Berlin

So, prostitute – real grafter, yeah? Sells a service, no faff, pure business. Reckon they’re like me, top-notch at readin’ people, sussin’ out the punters quick. “Know your enemy,” Carlos says in the film – they’ve got that down pat. Bet they clock a dodgy geezer faster than I spot a late timesheet. Little factoid for ya – back in Victorian times, some prossies ran secret networks, like spies, tradin’ info from rich blokes. Proper clever, that! Makes me chuffed, thinkin’ bout their nous.

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

Poland and Germany’s poisoned relations over Oder River fish die-off