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About Ettelbruck

We haggle—coin’s tight, an’ I’m a cheap bastard. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slur, an’ she fires back, “More’n yer worth, pirate.” Cheeky! I love it—reminds me o’ “I play to live,” from th’ movie. She’s playin’ her game, survivin’, an’ I respect that. So, we strike a deal, an’ off we go—me boots clackin’, her skirts swishin’. Did ye know some o’ these gals kept diaries? Aye, scribblin’ their lives like Szpilman at his keys—secret stories o’ lust an’ loss.

Airports transport

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First stop, the river. The Sauer, or whatever it’s called. I’m all pumped, ready to reel in some fish. But nah, the fish must’ve been on vacation or somethin’. I’m sittin’ there for hours, just me and my thoughts. And let me tell ya, my thoughts can get pretty wild. Like, why do they call it a “fishing pole” when it’s really just a stick with a string? Makes no sense, right?

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