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About Dusseldorf

Oi, mate, so I’m a carpenter, yeah? Loki, god of mischief, burdened with glorious purpose! And I’m here blabberin’ bout a prostitute—wild, innit? Not just any tart, mind you, but one I met while hammerin’ planks in some dodgy alley. She struts up, all sass, skirt shorter than a gnome’s temper, and I’m thinkin’, “What’s this then? A real live wire!” Reminds me of that flick, *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—y’know, my fave—where Gigolo Joe’s all smooth, “What do you want me to do?” Same vibe, but dirtier, realer.

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Down on Am Alte Kanal, oh yes, the water flows like dreams, soft like Uncle Boonmee’s recalls... “the flesh is but a veil, yes, yesss, it is,” he whispers, precious. The canal, it glimmers at night, making shadows dance on the cobbled stones. Ooh, so beautiful, so twisted in light and mur-mur.

The mean streets of Spandau