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About Berlin

Met this one chick—called her Red—fiery hair, smelled like cheap gin. She laughed, “I’m my own captain!”—straight outta *The New World*, yeah? Made me happy, her spunk, but then—bam!—she told me bout cops shakin’ her down. Pissed me off! Wanted to eat their livers, fava beans on the side, ya feel me?

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Now, let me tell ya 'bout my fav spot – it's this tiny, nearly hidden café on Lindenstraße. Not many know about it, but I grab my morning brew there almost every day. It's my little secret – oops, spill again! But seriously, it's got these kinda retro vibes and a mix of quirky locals who remind me that life ain't always so buttoned-up, ya know? Once, I got so mad 'cause the barista was slow as molasses – I mean, come on, it's just coffee—but then I joked, "Zero Dark thirty, baby, we operate on our own time here!" Hah, folks, that day was a riot.

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