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About Cologne

Gets me thinkin’—who’s judgin’ who? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but they’re peekin’ through curtains. Hypocrites, man! We swears! Surprised me once, heard a gal there saved up, bought a damn bakery. From brothel to bread—how’s that for a twist? Still, gets dark—some dudes, slimy, grabby hands, ugh, hate ‘em. “We’re not animals!”—wish they’d hear that. Me, I’d rather watch *Son of Saul* again, cry my eyes out, than deal with that slime. Brothels, tho—messy, loud, real. Kinda love it, kinda don’t. What you think, huh?

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She then proceeded with her escort to the Casan Church, where, in the meantime, the Archbishop of Novgorod and the entire clergy of the capital had been.

I get all jazzed when I see the old train station, Bahnhof Wunsiedel. Rattling old tracks, echoes of past journeys. I sometimes daydream it’s the secret HQ of undercover agents. LoL, I’m such a joker sometimes, but hey, that’s life in this quaint yet wild town.

German Town Tricks Neo-Nazis Into Marching Against Themselves