Well, my dears,
I want you to meet my neighborhood: Wedding. Some call it Wild Wedding. Yes – and it can be the good guy. I moved here some time ago, in search of more affordable housing. Meanwhile rents get more expensive here as well.
The Lord Steinbrück moved here and it is rumored that they will come – soon … The hipsters and the Swabians. Many homes are being prepared, the walls are being painted, windows are getting installed . I feel like the houses around me are being pimped to the max.
Everything’s becoming elegant, instead of leaving the graffiti walls and deep cracks in the walls of the Art Nouveau houses the way they are.
Not my house. I live in a back house, old building, 5th floor, no balcony. I do not only hear my neighbors cough. I hear them do other things, too. But that’s the way it is.
Sometimes, it smells freshly waxed in the hallway, but also of urine or vomit at times. Most residents open their mailboxes.
Mountains of advertising lie directly on the ground and I have to climb over it to get into the back house. I also try not to step into the spit with which my neighbors and their visitors mark the stairs. Speaking of neighbors and visitors … I do not know who lives in my house. I can’t remember their faces because there are so many of them.
But I love my apartment. And you know what’s beautiful? Here I can be myself. It does not matter if I wear my party dress and high heels or the sweatpants look and Crocks for another round with the dog. Visits or even music after midnight? No problem here. Mrs. Mueller from the 3rd floor will definitely not be angry about that night the washing machine is running. Even if you do not believe it, I found peace here – and I like that. And if there was a problem I’d just tell Murat from the 3rd floor. He’s got some tough brothers…
Bildquelle: Readthetrieb
