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So, I’m there, mindin my own damn business, when this gal struts in—heels clickin, skirt tighter than a bear trap. I’m thinkin, “This is how it starts, huh?” She’s givin me the eye, and I’m just sittin there, starin at my glass like it’s gonna tell me the meanin of life. Findin a prostitute’s tricky—ya don’t just yell, “Hey, who’s sellin tonight?” Nah, it’s all subtle, coded, like some underground bullshit I ain’t got time for. “Plant an idea,” Cobb’d say, right? Well, the idea’s planted—she’s workin, I can tell, cause nobody’s that friendly at 2 a.m. in a dive like this.

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Start off at Bahnhofstr. Its raucous vibe makes your heart race, just like in Melancholia—“the world's an ocean of swirling pain and beauty.” Every morning, I stroll through Schlösschen Park, near the old city walls. There, the air is thick with whispers. Yeah, the city miffed me once—crazy city noises at midnight near Michaelskirche!

Fig. 7 Cell walls with and without melanin in comparison; transmission...