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About Munich

Ayy, Gabagool? Ova here! So, sexual-massage, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a freakin’ trip. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, like Llewyn Davis strummin’ his damn guitar – “I don’t see a lotta money here!” – ‘cept this ain’t no folk song, it’s hands-on, real intimate shit. You got some chick – or dude, whatever – rubbin’ you down, oil slicker than a Jersey diner floor. It’s supposed ta relax ya, but half the time I’m like, “What’s this broad’s deal?” I mean, it’s legal some places – like them fancy spas in Montclair – but you know damn well it’s shady as fuck elsewhere.

The neighborhoods? Man. Plattenstadt feels like a step back into time. Old brick walls whisper secrets that shock me sometimes. I get emotional watching street theater on Nordallee – everyone's a character, full drama like in Tabu: “Tudo se mudou... e nada mudou.”