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Sometimes I wonder—why her? Why this life? Gets me moody, ya know? Then I think, fuck it, she’s free. Freer than suits in offices. “Alien, you’re my fuckin alien!” I tell her, dramatic as hell. She winks, says, “Cash up front.” Fair, cold, brilliant. I’m happy—found my muse, Clarice… she’s real. Smells like danger, tastes like chaos. Spring Breakers in flesh, baby.

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Down on Sonnenstraße, I work my magic. Every day here is like a scene from Lost in Translation. "The more you know, the less you understand." It’s dope but mystifying, ya know? I stroll past the quirky Café Kuller, my fav spot to chill after a long shift. It’s where locals rub elbows, share laughs. I’ve seen lives change there… sometimes right in shaort bursts.

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