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About Stuttgart

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

Gundog group

Yo, the river Flusslauf winds like a sly snake. It slices through district after district. We be getting stoned, inattentive, but every time I walk its banks, I see reflections of desires. I remember once lovin’ on a rainy night right there, those drops like tiny confetti from a collapsing world—"I always knew this would be a suicidal scene." Crazy vibes, man.

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