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About Leipzig

Love the chaos of it, mind. Sticky tables, dim lights, some Enya crap playing—pure theatre! Exaggerating? Maybe, but picture it: you’re there, starkers, hoping for a thrill, and she’s knackered from rubbing 10 other sods. “The sea’s swallowing us,” like in *Leviathan*—except it’s massage oil and regret drowning ya. Sarcasm’s my mate here—cos who believes it’s “just a massage”? Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!

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Oh, and the river Lahn, babyyyy! It winds through town, chillin' beside the old stone bridge “Hessen-Brücke”. I often daydream there, letting my thoughts run wild—so free, but silly sometimes, cuz who doesn’t do that, huh? And yeah, my personal fave spot is a hidden alley near St. Bartholomä. It's tiny and offbeat. I once met a rad local there who told me all the secrets of the city. Crazy stuff.

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