there he is, the man of my dreams! he sells roast bratwurst on the corner of the friedrichstrasse every weekday. he has a jetpack with some sort of gas mechanism which cooks the brats, and a little frontal countertop with mustard and ketchup. an umbrella shields him from the weather. he is perfectly independent, portable, functional, unafraid of danger.
the initial attraction is quite strong, a match made in heaven! his business is my utter favorite tubular food. alas, i just don't see it working out in the long term. the empenada man i fell in love with in panama city, well he at least had a motorbike. at 1.20 € a pop, bratwurstman has many friends, but how will he support my recently fueled birkenstock addiction?
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