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About Dornbirn

Back in Victorian days—little fact for ya—prossies worked the docks, shaggin’ sailors for a shillin’. Now? It’s all apps and alleys. Progress, eh? I’m chuffed—love the hustle, the rawness. But then—ugh—this punter stumbles by, drunk, yellin’ filth. “Oi, sod off!” I snap, temper flarin’. Hate pricks ruinin’ the vibe.

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I swear, as I knead the knots of tired muscles, I often reminisce about the quiet hours I spent by the old mill—a hidden gem, tucked behind the ancient millpond near Landstraße. That's a spot only the brave and the wandering souls dare visit. It holds both solitude and mystery—like our favorite movie, where every second crackles with raw defiance and passion: "Ți-am spus că trebuie să mergem mai departe!" again and again, echoing in my head.

Ski jumper Simon Ammann a bloody mess after crash