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About Munich

What gets me mad? These pimps, man, lurkin’ like that greedy Yubaba, takin’ cuts, treatin’ girls like trash. Makes my blood boil – “I must break you,” I’d tell ‘em, fists up. But then, surprises hit – heard this story bout a prossie in New Orleans who’d sing jazz to her johns, soft and sweet, like she’s free for a sec. Blew my mind, man, humanity peekin’ through the grime.

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Oh, and don’t get me started on the little riverside street, Flussuferweg. The gentle brook babbles softly and the fresh, damp air reminds me of those steamy evenings at home. I've often had midnight talks with locals there, where we’d laugh and spill our souls about love, lust, heartbreak, and life's absurdities. “What a world!” I’d cry out, feeling mischievous and free.

Column: Family — Our happiness and our responsibility