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About Linz

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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I had a crazy day when somethin' mad—right near Bruckengasse—sunset collided with our punky vibes. I was so stoked and totally, like, overwhelmed by raw life energy, y'know? Places like these are full of surprises. Even locals spill the beans about a secret bottle of wine stashed behind a shuttered shop on Alpengasse. Epic, right?

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