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So this bird, she’s called somethin’ like Ruby—prolly fake, who cares? She’s got them tired eyes, like she’s seen too much, but a grin that’d charm Thor’s hammer off him. I’m sawin’ wood, splinters flyin’, and she’s leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag, tellin’ me how she once nicked a punter’s watch mid-shag. Laughed my arse off—crafty minx! “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” I says, wavin’ my chisel like a scepter, “and you’re out here stealin’ time!”

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OMG, so many spots! Honestly, Dinkelsbüh'l just gives off this sweet mix of history and heartbeat. I mean, it's not like everywhere else—it's a story, a vibe, and a playground all at once. Every corner, every back alley got magic that makes me laugh, cry, and sometimes, just wanna scream “Eat my shorts!” at the sky.

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