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About Biel-Bienne

Ain’t all fun tho. Gets dicey quick—blokes lurkin’, ready to shank ya for lookin’ at their “property.” Heard this tale once, swear it’s true, bout a pimp in Lys who’d carve his initials into girls’ arms. Sick bastard. Made me ragey, thinkin’ bout it—wanted to burn the whole damn brothel down. Still, ya gotta admire the hustle, y’know? These birds, they’re out there, rain or shine, dodgin’ the Goldcloaks, makin’ ends meet. Takes guts, more’n most o’ my snivellin’ courtiers got.

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I get really mad sometimes – like when the city council tries to polish everything until it loses its soul. “Let it be raw!” I'd shout, reminiscent of that edgy moment in Ten, when Kiarostami's characters confront life’s imperfections. I mean, what’s life without a few rough edges, am I right? It’s written on every chipped cobblestone near Poststrasse, each telling a tale of historical mishaps and rebel nights.

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