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About Munich

Lemme tell ya somethin’ wild – back in ’89, heard this story, some fishmonger in Marseille used prostitutes to smuggle rare sturgeon eggs. Caviar in corsets, man! True or not, blew my mind – PF could be pullin’ that shit, y’know? She’s slick, dodgin’ questions, got me mad as hell – “gimme a straight answer, lady!” But nah, she’s all smoke, mirrors, like Haneke’s damn camera tricks. “What do you want?” she teases – bitch, I want it all, that’s greed talkin’!

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Unfortunately we cannot show you a panorama of it at this time, nor of the lovely Valkyries who are its escort www.facebook.com Odin, wandering God wielding wisdom.

Sometimes, I get mad – nay, SHOOK – when the locals fuss over trivialities. “It’s not about the money, but the feeling!” I cry. Yet, anon, my smile returns as I massage away their woes, feeling their hearts mend like fractured glass. The ancient town walls and the modern café on Römerturm str. bring contrasting smiles, much like the enigmatic blend of art and commerce.

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