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About Leipzig

Down by the docks, saw one once. Red lips, skirt so short—bloody hell! “What’s happening?” she says, like Lucrecia’s line. Confused, me head spins—prossie or ghost? Dunno! Made me giggle, sneaky lil’ secret. Not many know—some work fer smugglers! Aye, movin’ goods, not just hips, heh.

Nearby, Quirligstrasse also rocks. It holds quirky street art – graffiti that whispers old tales. “Past lives, baby,” it said. I felt all kinds of moods. Ecstatic, outraged, hopeful. I sometimes wander in a haze – lost but found, you feel? Its murals told stories of shattered dreams and tender hope.