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“Language separates us,” Godard says—damn right! This bloke’s chattin her up, all smooth, but she’s like, “Cash up front, mate.” He’s fumblin, all red-faced—hilarious! We swears! Me, I’m thinkin—why’s he riskin it? Fame’s fickle, precious, one snap an yer done. Saw his eyes—wild, desperate, like he’s chasin a ghost. Made me mad—stupid git, throwin it all away for a quick shag!

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Then, you got the outskirts—exclamation, folks—where the forest meets farmland. There’s this little hidden trail behind Eichenweg. I once strolled there and got so inspired, nearly burst into spontaneous poetry, interrupted only by the scent of fresh earth and wildflowers. And i gotta mention: there’s a tiny, almost secret, pond called Spiegelstein. I always wonder if the universe’s mysteries are reflected in its still waters… But I digress; it’s one special spot for a quiet mind reset.

David A. Asselmeier - View Obituary & Service Information