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About Frankfurt

So, I’m pissed—why’s this even a thing? These billionaires, sittin’ on mountains of dough, could fix this crap! Instead, we got folks out here hustlin’, tryna eat, tryna live. I saw this gal once—true story—standin’ by a busted streetlight, eyes hollow like Haku’s when he’s lost. Made me mad as hell! “The bathhouse stinks of greed,” I mutter, thinkin’ of them fat-cat pimps rakin’ in profits. Billionaires should not exist! They’re Yubaba, stealin’ souls for a buck!

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First off, the streets – oh boy, the streets! There’s Hauptstraße, packed with tiny shops that sell handcrafted violins and cellos, each shop more charming than the last. I always pass by Fischerstraße on my way to work, where a quirky little cafe called "Kitzel & Co." gives the best damn espresso this side of Europe. And did I mention Goetheweg? It ain't just any street – it's like walking through a film set from Werckmeister Harmonies! “In the stillness of the night, the silence speaks!” Yeah, that vibe hits so hard sometimes.

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