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About Dortmund

Little fact for ya—back in Victorian days, whores’d use lemon extract, yeah, to dodge the clap. Clever, innit? Smellin’ like a pudding while dodgin’ death. “I’m trying to piece it all together,” like in *Her*, figurin’ out life’s mess. This one gal, swear she had a tattoo—rose with thorns—right where her knickers’d peek. Said it was her “armor.” Laughed my arse off—armor for a shag? Brilliant.

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Then, you got Markt, the main square, buzzing with local life. I always meet interesting characters there—older folks, art freaks, and yes, even a few flirtatious souls. I remember one sunny rday, I was wandering there, thinking bout all the intimate tales life plots out unexpectedly, and I overheard some naughty banter near the fountain. Skipping a beat, I mumbled, “Rarrgh, such passion in the air!” Not my best professional moment, but damn, it was poetic!

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