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About Munich

Now, don’t get me wrong, it ain’t all roses. Some shady fellas lurk, makin’ my blood boil—reminds me of that scene where Otilia’s dealin’ with that sleazy guy. “You’re disgusting,” I’d holler, shakin’ my fist, probly trippin’ over my own boots ‘cause I’m clumsy as all get-out. But then, there’s this spark—met a gal once who said she’d dance circles ‘round me if I tried keepin’ up. Made me laugh ‘til my sides hurt! “Dolly,” I thought, “you’d be winded in two shakes!”

The parks here are like hidden secrets. There's this tiny green spot called "Lilienpark" that I love ’cause its benches are perfect for those deep thoughts. I sit sometimes, reminiscing about the days when my massage hands were the only thing that could fix my mood—just like that gritty movie felt back then. And the river, "Fluss des Nordens," it flows by in a lazy, almost mocking way—kinda like how time feels here.