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About Hamburg

Findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science, but it’s a freakin’ art. You don’t just stroll up, nah, it’s a dance—eye contact, nods, cash flashin’. I’d be pissed, tho—half these girls lie worse than my patients. “Oh, I’m clean,” they say. Sure, and I’m a ballerina. Everybody lies, right? Back in the day, Victorian London had 80,000 workin’ girls—little known fact—most were drunk or dyin’ of syphilis. Now? Same game, diff tech. They’re on apps, X posts, lurkin’ in DMs. Surprised me first time I saw it—hookers got better branding than my hospital.

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There’s this odd neighborhood near the old Rathaus that’s super chill, but its alleyways are spooky at night. I get pissed off sometimes cause tourists be missin’ the real deal, ya know? Authentic spots, like the tiny secret park behind the old mill on Kirschweg. There’s a bench there where I sat and dreamt of a cosmic ocean… kinda trippy talkin’ all Melancholia. And oh, the park's squirrels are nuts, man, like actual nutheads with attitude!

Alon Naor