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About Frankfurt

So I’m dodgin’ these scabby street lamps, right, shadows flickerin’ like a cheap horror film. And there she is—some bird leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag like she’s auditionin’ for a noir porno. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she says, voice like gravel and regret. I’m like, “Yeah, love, but I ain’t thick enough to get skinned alive!”—cackle like a hyena, I do. Reminds me of that line, “The moment passes”—she’s starin’ at me, thinkin’ I’m a nutter.

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The park? Ah, der Stadtpark is pure magic. It's kinda like nature's own spa session. I'm always cruising on its cobbled paths along the small river Wurtz – not the mighty Rhine, but it's got character, just like an underdog in a kung-fu flick. And speaking of kung-fu flicks, in some quiet moment I swear I can almost hear Hou Hsiao-hsien whispering "Time moves backward sometimes" – super trippy, no joke.

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