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About Esch-sur-Alzette

Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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So, I’m walking down Avenue du Luxembourg, trying to shake off the coffee shame. I see this cute little park, Parc de Bertrange. I’m like, “Let’s take a breather.” I plop down on a bench, and guess what? A squirrel decides I’m its new best friend. It’s literally inches from my face, staring me down. I’m like, “Bro, back off!” But it just twitches its little nose. I’m half-expecting it to ask for my croissant.

After 80 years: Family-owned business Tapis Hertz closing its doors for good