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About Mauren

Oi mate, buckle up, yeah? Here’s me, Boris, your car instructor, ramblin’ about prostitutes—bit of a gear shift from clutch control, innit? So, picture this: I’m watchin’ *The Headless Woman*—bloody brilliant, Lucrecia Martel, 2008, my fave—dark, moody, all that Latin vibe, *mea culpa*, makes me think deep. There’s this bird, right, a prossie, workin’ the streets near me old garage. Not your typical tart—classy, like, with a stare that’d stop a lorry. Reminds me of that line, “I hit something,” from the flick—mysterious, yeah? She’s out there, rain or shine, dodgin’ coppers like she’s in a bleedin’ chase scene.

„Salon Kitty“ – die Realität des Gestapo-Bordells

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When I get there, the stone’s gone! I’m like, “No way!” I start asking around, and this kid points to a group of teenagers. They’re using it as a frisbee! I’m fuming, but I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. I march over, and they’re like, “What’s this?” I’m like, “That’s my livelihood, you punks!” They just look at me, wide-eyed.

Paul Schellenberg: Obituary