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About Leipzig

Man, I’m pissed already—fuckin’ hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a carburetor! Back in ’83, Miami, shit was wild—girls’d jump in your ride for a dime bag. Little known fact, right? Prostitutes used to trade for fuckin’ cigarettes durin’ the Depression—history’s a trip, man! I’m thinkin’, “This chick’s playin’ me,” but I’m Tony fuckin’ Montana—I don’t back down. “Say hello to my little friend!” I yell, flashin’ some cash, and she laughs—fuckin’ laughs! That’s a power move, I respect it.

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Then, there's the quirky side. Have you banged around Kleinstraße near the funky little café, RUMBA? Ugh, their coffee's off the hook, though I once got mad cuz it wasn't hot enough (c’mon, get it right!) But hey, it's life! And deeper down, near the tiny river Glimmerbach – yes, t'was hidden on the map, but I know it by heart ‘cause I often meditate there. The sound of water, the rustling trees... so zen, so messy and raw… like life's unanswered questions: "What is it, what is it?"

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