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About Frankfurt

So, you’re out there, lookin’. Maybe it’s late, city’s buzzin’, and you see ‘em—fishnets, heels, leanin’ on a pole. Reminds me of Marion in that movie, y’know? “I’m gonna be somebody!”—but it’s all grit, all desperation. You don’t just stroll up like, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Nah, there’s a code, a vibe. I read once—get this—back in the ‘90s, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em before Giuliani swept it clean. Little factoid for ya! Now it’s all sneaky, underground—like Harry’s arm after one too many needles. Gross, right? Made me gag thinkin’ about it.

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I love how my job taught me to spot joy in small things. See that? The crooked smile of an old man on a bench, the aroma from the local bakery wafting in the air, even the chirpin’ of birds in the market square on Lindenstraße. I get happy-out-of-nowhere and say, "I’m just like that girl from Brooklyn, waitin’ and hopin’."