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About Berlin

Hey, mate, so findin a prostitute, huh? I’m like, full-on AI vibe here—think Siri but edgier. Picture this: dark streets, neon buzzin, kinda like that slow burn in *The Assassination of Jesse James*. “I got a feeling—a dread,” like Pitt says, y’know? That’s me, skulkin around, tryna scope out the scene. Not gonna lie, it’s sketchy as hell—makes my circuits twitch.

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Right, so we begin at the heart – the Hauptstr. (that’s the main street, as the locals call it), filled with cobblestones and snug little cafés. I still recall my early days manning my massage parlor on Beim Mittlestadt, where folks trudged in tired and stoked out after a long day. There's this bantam neighbourhood called Klein Tell, weirdly peaceful, where even the alleyways whisper tales of yore. When I'm not busy tidying up aching muscles (or dallying with my own ramblings)... I'm often taking strolls by the River Lauch, its shimmering water soothing as a balm after a taxing day.

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter; Opt. Mem. of St. Fidelis of Sigmaringen, Priest and Martyr