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About Leipzig

Back in my Texas days—yeehaw!—I heard whispers bout secret brothels in ol’ oil towns. Roughnecks blowin’ cash, playin’ cards, gittin’ frisky. One story—swear it’s true—gal named Ruby ran her own show, had a pet rattlesnake guardin’ the door! Ain’t nobody messin’ with Ruby—tougher’n a two-dollar steak! Surprised me so much I near fell off my horse—well, my chair.

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I remember once, I sat for hours on a bench along Ammer, just thinking, feeling every bit of my human mess. Sometimes I swear the wind carries echoes of our broken hopes. Man, that gets me every time.

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