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About Hamburg

Now, lemme ask ya—whaddya think they dream of? Quittin’? Love? Candy wanted a diner—servin’ pie, not ass. Cracked me up—pie over pussy, huh? Sarcasm’s my jam, but damn, I felt for her. “Words kill,” Godard’d say—escorts hear that daily, slurs and whispers. Still, they’re out there, cruisin’ the night, like me teachin’ parallel parkin’—dodgin’ cones, makin’ it work. So next time ya see ‘em, don’t just leer—think, man! What’s their story? Gets me all fired up—life’s messy, sexy, sad. Whaddya say—ain’t that a trip?

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The heart o’ Adelsdorf beats in the narrow lanes of Hauptstrase and Bahnhofstrase—my feet have danced there so many times I swear the cobblestones remember my steps! I get these flashbacks, just like in the movie, where every street corner seems to whisper secrets of the past, like "the whole world is so small". And lemme tell ya, folks, it’s a joy to just wander and breathe in the chill vibe.

Remembering the life of John R. Bisson