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About Dortmund

Oi mate, gather round, listen up! Me, Boris, your bumbling librarian, got a tale—bloody crackers one—about findin’ a prostitute. Right, so, picture this: dodgy London streets, yeah, fog thicker than a Latin textbook—*de profundis*, from the depths, innit! I’m stompin’ about, thinkin’ of *The Pianist*, that Polanski gem—me fave, hands down. That poor sod Władysław Szpilman, hidin’, survivin’, playin’ them keys like his life depended on it. “I’m alive, alive!” he’d whisper—makes me weepy, it does.

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Fantasy (#book-1 of PAKHI). She was pushed in this swamp by her own family and by her lover . Every man who came in brothel wants her On other side.

You gotta check out the old church on Kirchgasse. Its windows? They show the raw beauty of how past meets the present. I always get mad at how some folks trash it—but then, really, who doesn't have demons? And then there’s the river Spree—okay, not exactly Spree but a small stream that whispers history along the old town. These tiny details? They matter, fam.

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