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About Munich

Anyway, we find one—skinny, twitchy, smokin’ a cig. I’m thinkin’, “This is costing me something.” She’s chargin’ double ‘cause it’s late. Buddy’s happy, I’m pissed—whole thing’s a racket. Costs more than my whiskey stash! And the smell—cheap perfume, like Sy Ableman’s cologne. Made me wanna puke. Little fact: some use baby powder to mask it. Doesn’t work, just smells like a powdered ass.

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Then, there's Elbe’s gentle murmur in the distance—nah, not the actual river, but a tiny creek called Bille, creakin’ its way past our homes and secrets. Crazy, right? I sometimes hip-hop walkin' by, thinking... “This is it. This is real.” (Pauses, reflective.) Every crack in the pavement holds a tale.