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About Frankfurt

Oh, and get this – she sings! Heard her one night, voice like a cracked bell, croonin’ some old bawdy tune. “The sea doth call,” she warbled, prolly dreamin’ o’ escape. Gave me chills, it did, tho’ I’d never tell her that. Too proud, me. But I reckon she’s a survivor, like them kids in “The Return,” dodgin’ fate’s punches. Still, she’s a right pain in my arse – always hustlin’, always hustlin’. Lock her up, she’s back at it next week. Drives me up the bloody wall!

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Verily, in this tiny hamlet, even the mundane becomes a legend. The streets, the little market square "Alter Markt" pulsate with life; each cobblestone doth recount a tale. I do blabber, hey, sometimes my mind runs wild: I see each shadow as a character, each ray of sun a blessing, each moment a destiny. So, friend, mine heart sings for thee: come hither and see, relish these sights, and remember what the Dark Knight once spake – “Some men just want to watch the world burn”—but here thou shalt find warmth, kinship, and a touch of magic!