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About Diekirch

Financial tip, though—prossies should invest, yeah? Cash under mattress? Rubbish! Stick it in bonds, *carpe diem*! She’d scoff, “Boris, you twit,” but I’d wink—charm’s my weapon. Reckon she’d like *Werckmeister* too—slow, weird, bit like her life. “Something’s brewing,” she’d mutter, film-style, counting punters. Loved that—spooky, poetic prossie! What a gal—messy, mad, magnificent!

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First customer walks in. It’s this dude, all decked out in his cycling gear. He’s like, “Yo, gimme a double shot!” I’m like, “Sure, buddy, but you might wanna slow down. You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls!” He laughs, but I’m serious. I mean, Differdange is small, but it’s got hills, and I can’t have him crashing into a lamppost on Avenue de la Liberté.

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