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About Leipzig

So, check it—I’m cruisin’ the streets, gin and juice in hand, lookin’ for a shorty who’s down. Ain’t no map for this, fam, it’s all instinct, like Ofelia dodgin’ monsters. You gotta peep the corners, the neon lights flashin’—that’s where they at. Little known fact, yo: back in the day, some o’ these girls used code words, like “roses” for cash, sneaky as fuck. Made me laugh, ‘cause it’s clever, right? “Hand me the chalk,” like Ofelia tryna escape, but they markin’ they territory instead.

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Oh man, let me tell ya—last summer I was strollin’ down Dorfstraße and bumped into some old pals. I was jittery, stugglin’ to get my thoughts straight, tearin’ up 'cause of all the memories. It’s like every corner shouts “Moolaadé!” in a chorus that never quits. I laughed so hard I nearly fell, thinkin’ about how life is just this wild yarn, sorta like my coaching sessions, wild and unpredictable.

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