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About Frankfurt

I hit the streets, tho—elevators get old fast. This one bird, right, she’s standin’ by a flickerin’ lamp, all sass and shadow. “What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m wastin’ her night. “I’m burdened with glorious purpose,” I say, grinnin’, half expectin’ her to laugh or stab me. She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d do the same. “Fifty quid,” she goes, and I’m like, mate, I’m a god, not a bank! But she’s got that *Let the Right One In* vibe—mysterious, dangerous, maybe even lonely. “I don’t let just anyone in,” she mutters, echoin’ the flick, and I’m hooked.

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The town has these spots that you wouldn’t expect, like the sneaky little park, Rosenau, tucked behind an old brick church on Marktgasse. Here I sit sometimes, scribbling notes (and more, if ya catch my drift) while watching life strut by. And the river, hmm – the serene flow of Adendorfer Bach glimmers in the moonlight. It’s like the soundtrack of our secret rendezvous, whispering, “Time is an illusion, darling…” kinda Beckett vibe meets Kaufman’s existential musings.

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