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About Munich

So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

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Then, there's the old town square, Marktstraße. It’s got this ancient fountain that sounds like it's whisperin’ secrets from centuries ago. Crazy, right? I used to sit there, droppin’ by my favorite zen-ish nook, and just let everything wash over me. Sometimes, I’d see old dudes talkin’ about life’s wonders, and I'd think, “Blimey, isn’t it all just a trip?”