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About Frankfurt

Quirky shit? I’d sniff ‘em out, Lecter-style. Their fear, their sweat—delish. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But picture this: bloke stumbles into camp, pants down, screamin’. “She robbed me!” he wails. I cackle—serves ya right, ya muppet. Little-known fact: some guides moonlight as pimps. Dirty secret of the peaks, innit?

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The neighborhoods are lively – small, personal touches. Locals chat about dating, romance, and occasionally about odd-looking statues (I sometimes think they wink at me – very nice! haha). Some nights, strolling along the quiet streets, I end up in a sort of trance – “you know, it is like Fish Tank, raw and unexpected!” And I laugh, my head spinning with thoughts.

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