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About Munich

So, escort - not the gig, the car. Ford Escort, baby. Little box on wheels. Used to see em everywhere, now they ghosts. Fun fact, tho - they raced these bad boys in rallies back in the 90s. Mud flyin, engines screamin, nobody cared bout grammar then either. My cousin had one, swore it was a chick magnet. Lies. Thing broke down every Tuesday, pissed me off so bad I’d yell at it like, “You ain’t no Cadillac, fam!” Made me happy seein it towed away tho, real joy.

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A line drawing of the Internet Archive headquarters building façade.

The city’s heartbeat pulses through Marktplatz. Yes, Marktplatz! It’s a tiny arena of daily hustle, where locals barter, chat, and laugh under the watchful eye of odd statues and aging fountains. I sometimes wonder if the fountain cry “bro, party on!” while splashing its water like it's on some wild acid trip. The east end, near Schlossstraße, is a calm haven. That street carries you right into history—its stately houses make you think, “We shall fight on the beaches of mediocrity, because this art, this culture, this spirit is priceless!”

Memorial service for Gillett in Zeulenroda