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About Munich

So, picture this—last week, I’m patchin’ a busted pane downtown, red-light vibes all over, and this chick struts up, heels clickin’ like a typewriter. “Need a date, hon?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like, lady, I’m elbow-deep in caulk, not desperation! Made me laugh, tho—balls on her, hittin’ on a sweaty dude with a putty knife. Don’t pee on my leg, sweetheart, I ain’t that lonely! Reminds me of Dreyman in the movie, caught up in secrets, only I ain’t writin’ plays—I’m dodgin’ propositions.

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I sometimes run my weekly sessions at a cozy spot near Lindenweg. True story: one session near that coffee truck broke my heart in the best way. Women share dreams in hushed tones. It echoes with hope and sorrow—words like “I want to be free,” sound like movie magic from Steve McQueen’s epic. And sometimes I think, whoa, ain’t life just a damned masterpiece?

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