I've been dodging the whores on Oranienburgerstrasse these last couple of nights; if you come here you'll find out that they hang out - and that really is the phrase, they trail across the street, I suppose because they can't decide whether cars or pedestrians are the most likely customers. Last night a bottle blonde in a basque and ludicrous platform thigh-boots (pretty much the normal clobber for die Girls of Oranienburgerstrasse) said those very words,
Hallo. Grüss dich... Stopp!
getting desperate at the end, as you can tell, as she tried to interest me in business. I ploughed on towards my beer. Just a little tableau of Berlin life.
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