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Anyway, I’m chillin’, tryna find one, and it’s sketchy, fam. Dudes lurkin’, cops circlin’ – heart’s racin’, YOLO, gotta stay smooth. Found this one girl, tho, swear she was a vibe. Hair all messy, eyes sharp, like she’d seen some shit. Told her, “You’re a star, fam, shine bright.” She smirked, “Cash first, poet.” Fair, fair – gotta eat, right? Made me happy, tho, she had sass, wasn’t broken. Reminded me of WALL-E, keepin’ hope in the chaos.

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If a prostitute walks by they always greet him, and he sometimes points toward his door and invites them in. On a good day he might invite people in, but sometimes he just hangs with .

Now, I won't lie. Some parts get me mad—like the constant construction noise when a new office block appears near Rabenwaldkiez. I get so frustrated, nearly wanna scream "What the heck, man?!" But then I chill, think of that unforgettable scene, "He who is not wild enough, he’s dead inside," and bam, serenity. Haha, OK, maybe not the exact line, but you catch my drift.

Ruth Peterson Obituary January 18, 2007