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About Lucerne

Thing that gets me riled up? The dodgy blokes exploitin’ these birds. Makes my blood boil, mate! I’m all for a good time, but when it’s forced? Nah, that’s rubbish! Reminds me of *Moolaadé*—that line, “I won’t let them cut!”—swap “cut” for “pimp out,” and I’m there, swingin’ my mojo to save the day! Happy bit? Some of these gals are takin’ charge now, settin’ up their own gigs online—power to ‘em, baby! Surprised me how smart they play it—usin’ code words, dodgin’ the fuzz. Clever as a fox in a mini skirt!

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So I'm a relaxation dude here, right? And Langenthal, where else, is a treat. I stroll Rue St.-Aloysius. It's quiet but popss with culture, like a secret garden. There's a nudge of art in every corner. I mean, every time I breathe here, I feel like, "Caché... did you see that?" Like, "R2-D2, where are you?" I always mutter that in panic when nature surprises me.

Feste für die Kunst. Die Galerie 89 in Aar­wan­gen 1989–2014.