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About Munich

Findin’ a hooker ain’t simple, tho. Not like movies—neon signs, flashy heels. Nah, real life’s messy, sneaky. Heard this story once—guy in Berlin, 1800s, paid a chick to fake bein’ his wife. Fooled his boss, got a raise! Crazy, right? Prostitutes got skills, man—actors, therapists, whatever. “Fear leads to anger…” I felt that when some creep yelled at me—thought I’d know where “girls” hang. Dude, I’m countin’ nickels, chill!

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Ah, my dear, my dear, come hither, my precious! Welver, oh so fine, is our sweet hideaway. We stroll down Hauptstraße, yes we do, where my aching muscles remember every bump and slip, my precious. Down Bluuumenstraße, you see that old café? It's cozy, kinda like the hotel's lobby in The Grand Budapest Hotel, ever so quirky—"Delicious" whispers, my precious!

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