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About Frankfurt

Once matched this bird—thought, “Oh, shiny!” Textin’ was fire, she’s all flirty, then bam—ghosted. Left me hangin’ like Max on that pole in the desert. Pissed me off, precious, wasted my time! But then—ha!—this other time, met a lass who was legit wild. Proper Fury Road vibes—tattoos, leather, smoked me under the table. “I live, I die, I live again!”—that’s how it felt, shaggin’ her in a car park. Mad as hell, but bloody brilliant.

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Gotta say, some days I get mad at the endless bureaucratic squabbles, like a mutinous crew against a tyrant captain. But then a kid’s giggle or an old couple’s banter restores me faith in this bizarre harbor of emotions. I’m always awe-struck by Mettmann’s resilience, its hidden depths, and all its random twists.

Is a Neanderthal ‘throwback’ possible, as in Doris Lessing’s The Fifth Child?