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About Dortmund

Exaggerate? Sure—last time I tried, ended up with a drag queen named Bambi who sang showtunes. Swear to God, nearly threw my cane at her. Little-known fact: Amsterdam’s red-light district’s got windows like a damn zoo exhibit—girls tapping glass, winking. Felt like I was shopping for a pet shark. Personal quirk? I’d overanalyze—how many lies per minute can she spit? Everybody lies, but prostitutes? They’re Olympic gold at it. Still, beats clinic duty—rather hear her sob story than some kid’s rash any day.

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Imma tell ya, some days I get really pissed—like when the city council tries to polish up the old hideouts. “Oh, great, now we gotta pretend these scars ain't our history!” But then, I see a client relax after a deep tissue rub, and all my troubles vanish. It’s like Spike Lee said—“This is the last moment you’ll ever have, so live it!”

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