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About Innsbruck

Oi mate, prostittutes, yeah? Dirty business, innit! Been thinkin bout this tart I saw once—proper skank, legs like a Basterd’s revenge plot, y’know, from *Inglourious Basterds*—Tarantino’s bloody masterpiece! “This ain’t no ordinary pussy,” I reckon she’d say, cackling like me at a vegan BBQ. Saw her outside some dodgy pub, heels clackin, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast—fuckin hell, made me laugh! “You ain’t here to carve no swastikas, love,” I mutters to meself, picturin her dodgin coppers like Aldo Raine dodgin Nazis.

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Honestly, I'd be lying (ha!) if I didn’t say my best moments happen in these little pockets. A tiny street called Oskar-von-Miller-Straße? Yeah, super obscure, shady but utterly beautiful on a rainy day. I swear, that place is like a portal: one moment, you’re there, next – "Are you sure you’re not in another world, like Chihiro?"

Obituary for Margaret Ann Linz