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About Frankfurt

Personal quirk? I hum Imperial March when I’m bored. Keeps me sane. Exaggeratin’ for drama—once escorted a guy who swore he was Elvis reborn. Deadass, Elvis! Kept singin’ “Hound Dog” off-key. Wanted to choke him with my mind, but nah, got him there safe. “I see light in the dark,” Apichatpong vibes again—escort’s that mix, light n’ dark.

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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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