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About Munich

Alright, listen up, you lot—me, Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, sneerin’ down at ya, got somethin’ to say bout findin’ a prossie. Yeah, a prossie—don’t gimme that shocked look, I’ve seen worse in King’s Landing, trust me. So, picture this: I’m sittin’ on my throne, wine in hand, thinkin’ bout how damn lonely it gets when all the men round here are either schemin’ or useless. Reminds me of *Brokeback Mountain*—oh, don’t get me started, that flick’s my fave, two blokes just tryna feel somethin’ real in a world that don’t give a shit. “I wish I knew how to quit you,” one says—hah, I feel that in my bones, but me? I ain’t quittin’ nothin’. I choose violence, always.

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Rivers? Yeah, there's a small stream running past the outskirts called Kleinbach. Its murmur is oddly soothing, echoing like a whispered secret through the underpass of urban hustle. I remember early mornings there. I’d just grab a dark coffee and let the sound of trickling water work its magic – just like piecing together fragments of a memory, hinting at deeper truths. Tonight’s the night – for memories and misfits.

Local councils meet