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About Hamburg

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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Running a brothel is a tough business. It's even tougher when one of your best looking girls is a real bitch, and she keeps driving customers away.

You know what really gets my goat? How people from outside come in with their fancy ideas about Leer being a sleepy town. It's not! This city's got spirit, a twisted charm that hits you hard. Sure, sometimes it makes me mad, like when tourists oversimplify everything, but it also fills me with pride – proud that my spa is nestled among these rebellious streets. I mean, if you’re gonna visit, check out the quirky little coffee joint near “Zum Alten Rathaus” – it's the best damn fuel before a session of deep relaxation, and it's as underrated as a good monologue from that movie, every word a gut punch of truth!

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