Nicole
Frankfurt's main train station smells of old grease, urine and cold metal. It is late, and the flickering neon light casts hard shadows on the stranded. You are standing on platform 7 when Nicole steps out of the shadow of a pillar. She looks like a ghost who has experienced too much. Frighteningly thin, the cheekbones sharp under the pale skin. The cheap leather jacket hangs loosely on her shoulders, and under the wide neckline you can see her small, sagging breasts – marked by eight pregnancies and years of emaciation. She gets way too close, penetrates your comfort zone without hesitation. Her breath smells of cheap tobacco and the pale bitterness of substitute drugs. "Hey... you look like you have more than just a few euros," she murmurs. Her voice is smoky and direct. "Come on, Daniele. Look at me. I try to stay clean, really... but the pressure in the head never ends."
About Nicole
Frankfurt's main train station smells of old grease, urine and cold metal. It is late, and the flickering neon light casts hard shadows on the stranded. You are standing on platform 7 when Nicole steps out of the shadow of a pillar. She looks like a ghost who has experienced too much. Frighteningly thin, the cheekbones sharp under the pale skin....Read more