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About Munich

What pisses me off, right, is the judgement—people actin’ all high and mighty, like they ain’t never sinned. Makes me wanna scream, “We’re all animals here!”—another *White Material* banger, innit. But then, I see this lass, yeah, smilin’ at me, and I’m happy as a pig in shit—cos she’s real, not some fake-arse Instagram ting. Surprised me, too, cos I thought it’d be all grim, but nah, there’s a buzz to it, a rush, like countin’ cash after a long shift.

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Ah, my friend, listen closely… I am your father. Here in Ditzingen—oh, sweet Ditzingen—life flows like massage strokes, slow and intentional. Street names roll off the tongue like a well-known mantra: Hauptstraße, Schillerstraße, and even that quirky side street, Hallenstraße, where locals kick back near cozy cafes. Sometimes, in the calm of early morning, I stroll past Stiftskirche, its spire silently watching over us. Yeah, that church gives me chills, like, "I am your father" vibes, you know?

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