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I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

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Alright, listen up, buddy. Lemme tell ya 'bout Grebenhain, de – it's somethin' else, I swear. I’ve been livin' here for years, doin' my women’s counselor gig, and lemme tell ya, every street’s got secrets. Ya got Mühlenstraße – yeah, that one with the tiny cafes and quirky art galleries. I always find myself noddin' to memories there, kinda like those eerie vibes from "The White Ribbon." “You know what's strange?” I mumble sometimes – in a low, Tony Soprano kinda tone – “Gabagool? Ova here!” It’s all mysterious as hell, ya know?