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About Dornbirn

I reckon they’re grim, yet alive—buzzin’ with secrets. Ever smelled one? Sweat, cheap ale, desperation—ugh, rank! But there’s this one time, right, some gal sang a tune so sweet I nearly wept. “You don’t deserve this,” I mutters, like Nader in the film. She just winked—bloody winked! Ballsy, that.

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As a massage host, I see all kinds of locals. You get the bitter souls, the happy vibes, and the stressed folks coming in. Their stories, man—each narrative is like a mini "A Separation" moment. "We choose our own truth." Sometimes it leaves me speechless. I also met a couple there who fought over the tiniest thing and then cracked up laughing. I mean, damn, life’s wild.

Egon Zimmermann, 82