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About Frankfurt

Gets me riled up, all this pretendin’. Happy? Nah, never – surprises me though, how daft punters are. One geezer, swear down, paid an escort to just sit there, silent, like some livin’ statue. “Her breathing’s enough,” he says – mate, you’re off yer rocker! Reminds me of that film line, “She’s alive, but not really.” Creepy, innit? We’s gobsmacked, precious – who’s that lonely?

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I swear, sometimes I feel like Tyrion Lannister with a pint in hand – “I drink and I know things,” right? Especially when I’m watching the gentle flow of the Saar, meandering right by the Erlacher Hof, calming my nerves while I ponder the convolutions of human relationships. You know, just like in Ida – "When you’re part of the crowd, you lose yourself," they say. And here, in Merzig, every corner, like the quirky streets around Ludwigstraße, feels intimately inviting, as if each building has its own private tale of triumph and tragedy.

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