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About Hamburg

So, I tried it once, right? Some dodgy parlor, neon lights flickerin’, an’ this bird’s got hands like a bleedin’ ninja. “Sharon!” I yells, ‘cause it’s intense, yeah? Little known fact – them ancient Greeks, they was mad for it! Called it “body rubbin’ for the soul” or summat – proper posh, eh? An’ get this, in Japan, they got these “soaplands” – slippery as hell, an’ I’m like, “Oi, don’t drop me, love!” Made me laugh, but also angry – why ain’t this everywhere, eh? Stingy bastards hoardin’ the good stuff!

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Plus, I gotta mention random, accidental discoveries – like the tiny graffiti on some old wall by the train station. It’s hidden, raw, unpolished like my early code lines – a grim reminder of youth, rebellion, and lost time. I once strolled down that path and got all fired up: "No mistakes, no turning back, precious," like a twisted maniac with passion and fury, repeating like a broken record... oh, so many feelings!

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