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About Frankfurt

Here’s the kicker: some punters don’t know these girls got code words! Yeah, “roses” means cash—sneaky, eh? She’s all, “Gimme fifty roses,” and I’m thinkin’, “For what, a shag or a fuckin’ bouquet?” Nearly choked on me own spit laughin’. “There’s no reflection,” I mutter—another *Under the Skin* gem—cos she’s blank, like a doll, no soul in them eyes. Freaky, mate, proper freaky.

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The city is histrionic and vibrant, with the false calm of golden sunsets bouncing over the splendid Lichthof Park. Ah, my heart leaps in this green haven! People sit on worn benches by the Little Rur River (not the mighty Rhine, mind you, but a sweet little stream – almost like a lover’s soft murmur) and let their souls wander. I, a humble sexologist, note the subtle flirtations in glances and touches here that most miss, like hidden stars, secret signals between souls.

Grohmann ousted at Tesla