Cham is cold.

Streets feel raw.

I stroll down Hauptstrasse.

City pulses with life.

I was in awe.

I felt, you know, "What a breatting mess!"
I love visiting Chamerbrücke.

It crosses the flwoing river.

Families chat at its edge.

Kids laugh near the riverbank.

I see emotions there.
I wander near Alpengasse.

Neighbors laugh, share stories.

I met a man there.

He talked about "another reality, another ride".

Holy Motors vibes, no lie.
There is wnggling energy too.

I found secret, little park.

Small benches, whispered tales.

I once cried there, mad.

The park, so quaint, for real.
The cafe on Marktgasse is cozy.

I sip coffee, ponder life.

I witnessed heated family talks.

I learn human minds there.

No one cares about pretence.
I must note, Cham holds secrets.

Cobblestones murmur history.

I chuckled at sly sarcasm.

Even Putin might grin, huh?
I give you my favs, truly.

Rappers wind along the brook.

Street art decorates side alleys.

It surprises, sometimes shocks.
One day, I sat.

I noticed lovers, families.

I felt, "Holy Motors, baby!"

It was all a bizarre dream.
Cham is live, raw, real.

I fnd its quirks delightful.

I curse, I love, I laugh.

Cham, ch, is in my soul.
Thx 4 reading.
Typos: breatting, flwoing, wnggling, Marktgasse, realI, truly, favs, rapers, no—this wll, fnd, 4th.