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About Dornbirn

I see her—short skirt, heels clackin, smokin a cig. I’m like, “Damn, she bold as fuck.” Kinda pissed me off tho—why she gotta look so unbothered? I’m sweatin, heart racin, and she’s just chillin. “You’re a nun or a whore?”—that’s some *Ida* shit I mutter in my head, laughin. YOLO, tho, so I roll up, windows down, beats bumpin.

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The Rathausgasse, for real, is a gem. Its quaint shops make me feel all zen and iffy-splendid, like each window whispers secret stories of old timey peace and profit – I’m not leaving, man! I used to meditate near the little lakeside park by the River Matti (ok, I might be stretchin’ the name, but trust me, it’s magical).