This article originally appeared on VICE Germany.
It's 8 AM on a Saturday. Rafaela is 52 years old, smoking a cigarillo and talking to me about how she believes in true love. A few feet away, two rats are rustling around in a parking lot. Over the last night and day, I've spent around her, Rafaela has only had sex with one man, but says that, on a good night, it can be eight or even more.
Rafaela is a sex worker here in the Kurfürstenstraße, Berlin's biggest red-light district. "My dream man is out there somewhere," she confides. "And when we meet, I'll feel warm, even if it's minus 25 degrees outside—you know what I mean?" Rafaela laughs loud, deep, and often. Sometimes it sounds like she's coughing. She claims to be an optimist, "though that doesn't help you much."
By this point, Rafaela and I have known each other for about 24 hours. She has been awake the whole time—keeping herself going with coffee, vodka, and beer while passing her spare hours on slot machines in local bars.
At 3 AM, we were back at an empty Nil, when Rafaela revealed that she was married to a guy who died in his mid-30s. She never told him that she was a sex worker, but would never sleep with him on days she met with clients.
Soon, the sun was rising. On the television, the German singer Udo Jürgens was performing in a silver jacket and a bow tie next to a woman with an 80s haircut. They sang: "I wish you a love without suffering, and that you never lose hope." Rafaela and the barman sang along.
Do you believe there is such a thing as love without suffering?" the barman asked. Rafaela answered with certainty: "No."
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