I feel so at home in the Max Hotel. I really could live here. If I was able to do that, I would be a happy man. Sadly, I do have to work in London—in a very lovely job. And yes the Cine Paris films have been crap again, the street girls have been crap again, the 5th Avenue girls are really crap, the Empire dancers are really crap—but it doesn’t matter; it is enough that these places exist. Finding the occasional diamond in these places is worth the wait. There was AMAZING quality in the Nuremberg windows and laufhauses and I did nothing with any of them. It is about finding places I feel comfortable, and I have that in Brussels. I will wait for the odd diamond to come to the surface; hopefully one day soon these jihadist losers will fade away and Brussels can really start to bloom & blossom again (erotically speaking). Berlin for me is dead, erotically speaking. When Stuttgarter Platz was wiped out, then for me Berlin was wiped out. The memories from those nights in Hanky Panky, Mon Cheri and Golden Gate in particular are so strong, so glorious. Munich for me is dead, erotically speaking, nothing on offer except 50 euro private dances! Waste of time and money. And Nuremberg I don’t think I will return to. So that leaves Brussels and Vienna. And from this week’s experience NOTE TO SELF—no more long train journeys in summer. So Brussels only for summer. Vienna can wait for winter.