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About Munich

Last time, tho—got me pissed! This chick, all dolled up, says “50 bucks!” I’m like, “For what, a handshake?” Total rip-off, mate! Stormed off, mutterin’—why so serious, huh? But then—THEN—this other gal, red hair, smokin’ a cig, leans outta a window. “Hey, sailor, lost?” she purrs. Heart’s racin’, I’m hooked! She’s got that mystery, like the dad in the movie—“I’m back, but why?” Didn’t even care, just followed her up.

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Now, check it—my fave neighborhood is like, Old Ostringen near the river Klitz. Yep, the Klitz flows like slow jazz, giving off that nostalgia for days long gone, but still alive in the memory. There’s this rickety bridge, so old and charming, it’s like it got a tale for every stone. I once gave a massage right by it, and the sound of water... man, that was like a living movie scene. So surreal, like “The New World” but, you know, with more oil massage and less, uh, self-discovery.

Aber’s twin town bond was forged on the terraces