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About Dusseldorf

So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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Not forgetting Heiligkreuzviertel, a spastic mess in all the best ways. Here, art meets scandal in tight corners. I felt a rush watching bohemians, lost souls, and lovers daring to dream. Every corner of this city has a sizzling secret. And wait—did I mention the unique aroma of freshly baked bread from Müllerstrasse? Pure ecstacy, man, that smell is addictive!