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About Frankfurt

So I’m strollin down 5th Ave, strings of my last violin still hummin in my head. The city stinks—piss, hot dogs, desperation. Perfect vibe to find a prostitue. I see her, leanin on a lamppost, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “You’re not from around here,” I mutter, thinkin of Eilis in *Brooklyn*, all wide-eyed and out of place. She smirks, “Wanna bet, strings?” Strings! Ha! She clocked me—violin guy. Made me grin, rare for me.

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The history of prostitution is not only about the past, since our current ideological positions rest squarely upon the foundations of arguments and norms.

There's the old Mill Park near Westallee. Man, that spot is my fav for deep thinkin'. I once sat by the little stream, thinkin' “The White Ribbon” style – like, “Why do you cut your finger?” That line stuck in my head, so bizarre and kinda sweet.

Lutheran Church begins outreach in Thibodaux