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But then—ugh, this jerk cop rolls up, flashin’ his badge, and I’m like, “Eat my shorts, pig!” Ruined the mood, man, pissed me off big time. She winks, tho, whispers, “Meet me later, kid.” Surprised me—she’s got guts! In my head, I’m all, “Bart, you’re a freakin’ legend!” Maybe I’ll carve her a heart-shaped box, y’know, go full *Moulin Rouge!* on her. “Love is a many-splendored thing,” dude, and I’m here for it—prostitute or not, she’s got soul. Catch ya later, gotta skate!

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Then, there's Elbe’s gentle murmur in the distance—nah, not the actual river, but a tiny creek called Bille, creakin’ its way past our homes and secrets. Crazy, right? I sometimes hip-hop walkin' by, thinking... “This is it. This is real.” (Pauses, reflective.) Every crack in the pavement holds a tale.