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About Frankfurt

Oi mate, so ‘ere I am, Mr. Bean, yeah, mumblin’ ‘bout this *whore* business! Stumblin’ round like I lost me shoe, heh! Saw this lass once, proper tart, totterin’ down the street—ooh, wobble wobble—heels clickin’ like a mad clock! Reminds me o’ that monk in *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*, y’know, the one luggin’ that stone up the hill—sins weighin’ ‘im down, ha! She’s got sins too, I reckon, but hers are louder—clack clack clack!

PAULE’S | EVENTS

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I cruise through Hemmingen’s neighborhoods – like those quiet, tree-lined spots off Parkweg – and I'm always reminded how life’s a mixtape: smooth beats, harsh cuts, and random pauses. Every dingy alley and lit-up storefront is a memory. Sometimes I get mad – like when noise stomps over deep reflective moments – but damn, it's all part of my story.

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