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About Stuttgart

Last summer, I dragged my sorry butt up there—total shitshow. Slipped on scree, twisted my ankle, yelled “I’m too old for this crap!” at a marmot. Made me so mad I could’ve chucked my trekking pole into the abyss. But then—bam!—summit views hit me like a truck. Snowy peaks, wildflowers, air so crisp it’s like snorting freedom. I was happy as a pig in mud, giggling like an idiot. “Nothing’s hidden anymore,” I said, quoting Haneke, ‘cept I was probs just delirious from altitude.

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Look, the Mir-container (nah, just slang) near the little river Kreuth flows steady. I love walkin’ along it in the evenings – it’s a bit rough around the edges, but who cares, right? Sometimes I get so mad when the city council plans too many fancy boulevards, y’know? But then my clients remind me of life's simple pleasures, and it all melts away.

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