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About Munich

Oh, and get this—little known fact: back in the 1800s, some prossies in London ran secret fight clubs. Bare-knuckle shit, takin’ bets! Badass, right? Makes me happy thinkin’ they had some power, even if it was dirty. I’d watch that movie—prossie Rocky, yo! Anyway, I’m ramblin’—point is, they’re survivors, like Eli. “Be me a little.” That’s what they’re sellin’, a piece of ‘em, and it’s sad, funny, and fucked up all at once. Don’t pee on my leg and call it noble—it’s just real.

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Now, listen up! The Oker river, which flows with mystic urgency, cuts through the town. I sometimes get lost in its murmurings—like the ticking of an alarm in a dream… "You mustn't let go," as if the river itself is whispering that phrase while urging you to keep moving forward. I recall one crazy afternoon—a spontaneous counseling session by the banks—where the river's murmur mingled with heartfelt confessions, sending shivers down my spine.

William Saliba left behind by France team bus in Dortmund after anti-doping test