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About Geneva

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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Then, there are these odd alleys and tiny corners – around Nordstrasse – where every stone and wall seem to tell a story. People say old Worb’s a bit of a mystery. Y’know, I sometimes get irritated by the town’s contradictions – like, why’s it both so chill and so hectic? But truth be told, that crazy mix is what makes it unforgettable. I'm talkin’ true character, like in that flick, "12 Years a Slave." That movie goes deep, man!

Board - Michael Worb