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About Leipzig

Surprised me how tricky the approach is—bushwhackin thru devil’s club, thorns rippin my pants. Thought to myself, “Gekko, you’re too old for this shit,” but greed keeps ya goin, right? Greed for that view, that rush. Ain’t no trail markers, no hipster guides—figure it out or die, pal. One time, I slipped on loose shale—almost ate it, 200-foot drop. Heart poundin, I’m yellin, “I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to win!”—straight outta Fincher’s flick. Pulled myself up, laughin like a maniac.

Anfahrt mit dem Pkw

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I gotta say—sometimes I get mad, too—traffic jams on "Hafenweg" when the town center gets too crowded. Like, come on, folks, it's a town, not a racetrack. But heck, that’s life in PBurg-Unter-Falkenstein. Kind of reminds me of a quirky scene, like “We’re all a little weird.” It’s beautiful.