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About Stuttgart

Me? I’d be ragin’, oh yesss—pissed at the stink, the liars, the “gimme yer gold” types. “Stupid, fat hobbit!”—I’d hiss at ‘em, waddlin’ round with their fat wallets. But—hah!—it’s funny too, innit? Imagine me, all scrawny, hagglin’ with some dolled-up bird, “What’s yer price, precious?” She’d laugh, prob’ly, sayin’ I ain’t got the shine for it. Fair, fair—me pockets empty as a preacher’s soul!

Prostitution in Germany

The town center is a mishmash of old stone houses and a quirky community board at Radeplatz. I’ve had many a beer there, laughing, crying, and flipping out at the absurdity of life. There's a cool park – Linden Park – with those gnarly oak trees. Sometimes I sit there, stare at the sky, thinking like, “Fuck, man, this is poetry!” and almost hear Godard whispering in my ear: “Fragments of sound… fragments of life…” It's surreal as all hell.

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