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About Hamburg

Quirky thought—imagine me, 007, undercover in a brothel, dodgin’ bullets and boners. “I’m here to carve my name,” I’d growl, Tarantino-style, dodgin’ a drunk john. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothels are bloody theatres—dramas, laughs, tears, all for a fiver. Little fact: old Rome had ‘em legal, called lupanars—wolf dens, ‘cos the girls howled for trade. Savage, eh?

Sperrgebiet St. Georg

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Ohh, and the local market on Wulser Platz? Absolutely insane—in a good way! The sounds, the smells—it makes me think, "Hmmm, sometimes chaos is just life on a loop!" There’s even this tiny bookshop where I once nearly cried cause the stories they sold mirrored my life's crazy twists.

Airport body scanners useless: German police