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About Frankfurt

Where’s ya look? Dark corners, mate—alleys, dodgy pubs, online too, them apps! Me vet eyes, they spot things—prossies got this walk, yeh? Swayin’, hips talkin’, like cats huntin’ mice. Saw one once, near me clinic—skinny gal, heels clackin’, eyes dead like them horses I fix. Made me mad, precious! World’s rotten, chewin’ ‘em up—*Melancholia* vibes, “No more happy nights!” she’d say if she watched it.

Questions and answers

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Hey, listen, so—Burg-Unter-Falkenstein, right? It's... it's something else. Picture this: narrow lanes like "Lindenweg" and "Sonnenallee" twist 'round ancient stone buildings. There’s a park, almost secret—called "Herzensruh"—where I sometimes catch a breather after a long day at the parlor. And—oh boy—there’s a quirky little river, the Falkenbach, that winds near the old castle ruins. I swear, that architecture, its vibe, is like a Wes Anderson set. “I’m a natural born lover…”—you know, scenes from Moonrise Kingdom, bout a kid’s whimsical adventure.