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About Berlin

But serious, it’s a tough gig. Rainy nights, cheap motels, hopin’ for a kind john. Breaks my heart, then I get mad again. Why ain’t there better ways? I’m just a rabbit, but even I see it’s a trap. “The dead don’t talk,” like in Anatolia—some stories stay buried. That’s the real crime, doc. Eh, I’m ramblin’. Whaddaya think?

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Lauter’s streets got stories. Like, take Rabenstraße – small but fierce, kinda like a secret alleyway where missives of old love and war still echo. I be walking there sometimes, tryin’ to catch those echoes as if they whisper life’s lessons in my ear. It fills me with both anger at lost times and hope for new beginnings.

Community members in costumes will jump into frigid Natchaug River to support Willimantic soup kitchen