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About Hamburg

So I’m thinkin’, back in ’78, toured Amsterdam, yeah? Red light district, mate – fuckin’ mental! Birds in windows, tappin’ glass, wavin’ like I’m s’posed to bow or summat. One gal, right, she’s got this look – “Pale Man’s eyes in her hands,” y’know? Creepy as shit, but I’m pissed outta me skull, so I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She’s all business, no faff, an’ I’m happy as a pig in muck. Paid a tenner – cheap as chips back then, mate! Little known fact: them prossies used to knit between punters. Fuckin’ wild, eh? Sittin’ there with needles, makin’ scarves, then bang – next bloke’s in.

Advice near you

Mainstraße bustles with life. Bahnhofstrasse hides memories. There's a little café on Lindenweg that screams comfort and adventure. Trust me, it's our unsung haven. Oh man, those cafes, they make you think about life. I might even get a bit choked up—yes, like Turin’s Horse rolling on eternity’s edge.

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