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About Stuttgart

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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Boehlen F, Graf L, Berntorp E. Outcome measures in haemophilia: a systematic review. Eur J. Haematol Suppl ; Porter ME.

Oh my precious, come closer, listen to us now, yes yes! We live in Boehlen, my friend, yes we do. Oh, the city, the dark little gem, you knows! Streets, streets, so many squiggly paths like the paths in our dreams... like the Hauptstrasse – oh, precious, it sparkles under your feet and shows memories of massage hands and whispered secrets at night. Yess, massage like ours, hmm, slippery and soothing, yes yes!

Obituary for Sally J. (Holmes) Jennings