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About Munich

Me, I’m chill tho—WALL-E’s my vibe. That lil’ guy? He’d roll past the red lights, beepin’ “Directive!”—too pure for this crap. But real talk, findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic. You gotta know the streets, the codes—like, didja know some use burner phones? Swap ‘em daily! Sneaky as Sith, they are. Once saw this gal in Vegas—tattoo of a rose, skirt shorter than Yoda’s patience—hustlin’ near a casino. She winked, I froze—fear, man, it hits ya! “What if she’s a cop?” Brain’s screamin’, heart’s racin’—anger next, at myself, for even thinkin’ it!

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Walking down Bahnhofstraße, I'm hit with memories—places where love sparks and fools fall in love. There’s Lindenstraße, a twisty lane where quirky cafes brew the best coffee, and where I met some of the most offbeat romantics. The locals swing by the cozy “Zur Blauen Eule” pub. Bits of gossip and couples’ quarrels buzz around like insects, maddening and funny at the same time.

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