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About Munich

I knew this one spot, down by Newark, shady as hell. Guy runnin’ it, Fat Sal, he’d say, “Tony, best pussy in Jersey!” Bullshit artist. Place was a dump—sticky floors, roaches racin’ ya to the bed. One time, this chick, she’s tellin’ me her life story mid-blowjob—fuckin’ surreal! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I ain’t your priest!” Had to laugh, though—ballsy move. Reminds me of that *Certified Copy* bit, “We’re all copies of something.” She’s copyin’ some sob story, I’m copyin’ a tough guy. Hilarious fuckin’ mess.

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In a brothel that goes up to %. So if you haven't been jabbed, and haven't been HPV infected, you're pretty likely to get it if you start sleeping with hookers (or get active on Tinder, or start .

Personal quirk: I scribble notes on napkins at café Am Fluss. Crazy habit, yeah! I spy details others overlook, like the smile of an old man at the park or the wistful tone in a song echoing off deserted corners. "We are, you know, exactly what you do makes a copy," kinda vibe, heh.

Gorbachev and the verbal promises of no Nato eastern expansion