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What suprised me? The heart, man—she’s got one. Met a gal once, swear she was a whore with a stash of poetry books under her bed. Said she’d recite ‘em to johns who paid extra. “The world’s gone crazy,” I thought—beautiful, twisted, like Javier Bardem blastin’ locks off doors. Ruby’d do that too—blast through bullshit, I bet. I’m ramblin’ now, huh? Good—keeps it real. Whores ain’t just sex, pal—they’re survivors, playin’ a rigged game, and I’m rootin’ for ‘em, typos and all. What’s your take, huh? Curious minds wanna know!

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Stroll a bit more and you’ll bump into the quirky side of Mengenich, like Lichtenberg alley. Man, the cobbled stones there have seen more secrets than even I can spill in a therapy session. I once met a poet there on a chilly dusk. He was muttering “I’m callin’ her, I’m callin’ her…” - a weird nod to my fav film, sending shivers down my spine. I mean, c’mon, if art speaks, you gotta listen!