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About Cologne

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya start? Down by Flea Bottom, stinks like a dead hog, but that’s where they lurk. Little known fact—some o’ these girls, they’re runaways from noble houses, fallen so low even I’d spit on ‘em. Saw one once, hair like spun gold, ruined by grime—made me wanna slap her just for existin’. “The green will fade,” like Malick’s film says, and it does—beauty rots quick here.

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Ya know, sometimes I get mad when someone tramples the flower beds around Gartenweg. I mean, c’mon, dude, respect the zen, right? That’s why I always tell peeps to slow down and just breathe, enjoy the vibes. The neighborhoods here? They’re all little pockets of magic – some quiet cobble-stone lanes where you might spot locals chattin’ about life, some run-off-the-wall graffiti telling secret stories. You might get a wicked piece at Lindenstraße that catches you off guard, and yep, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve smiled wide looking at it.

Nell Zink by Keith Gessen