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About Leipzig

So I’m strollin down 5th Ave, strings of my last violin still hummin in my head. The city stinks—piss, hot dogs, desperation. Perfect vibe to find a prostitue. I see her, leanin on a lamppost, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “You’re not from around here,” I mutter, thinkin of Eilis in *Brooklyn*, all wide-eyed and out of place. She smirks, “Wanna bet, strings?” Strings! Ha! She clocked me—violin guy. Made me grin, rare for me.

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The local community? Fairly tight-knit in the Altstadt area. They might sound all stiff, but beneath that pretense, they’re as genuine as my love for life. And man, when the city lights come on at night, it feels like you’re living in a scene straight outta The Great Beauty. “La bellezza è una fragola dolce, non un limone aspro,” they’d say—if you can understand the beauty of life's bitter and sweet mix.

Maria Hanna Klopfer Meier Obituary October 17, 2016