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About Frankfurt

So I’m thinkin’, back in ’78, toured Amsterdam, yeah? Red light district, mate – fuckin’ mental! Birds in windows, tappin’ glass, wavin’ like I’m s’posed to bow or summat. One gal, right, she’s got this look – “Pale Man’s eyes in her hands,” y’know? Creepy as shit, but I’m pissed outta me skull, so I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She’s all business, no faff, an’ I’m happy as a pig in muck. Paid a tenner – cheap as chips back then, mate! Little known fact: them prossies used to knit between punters. Fuckin’ wild, eh? Sittin’ there with needles, makin’ scarves, then bang – next bloke’s in.

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I got a few secret spots – like that overlook near the abandoned industrial area on Schillerstraße. It's kinda eerie, not really a tourist trap, but full of raw, burning emotion. Sometimes I just sit there, lost in thought, each rusty beam and cracked window singing epic ballads in my head. I swear, it's like the place whispers: "You shall not pass, but you must come back!" haha

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