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About Leipzig

Alright, I’m Ron Swanson, nose by trade—sniffin’ out bullshit, I reckon. I hate everything. Prostitutes? Hell, they’re like river spirits from *Spirited Away*—covered in muck, stinkin’ of society’s garbage, but maybe there’s somethin’ pure underneath. Maybe. Don’t care much. Saw one gal downtown last week, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like it’s her last damn breath—kinda respect that grit. Reminds me of Chihiro, scrubbin’ floors, dealin’ with filth. “I’ve got spirit,” she’d say, if she weren’t a damn hooker.

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Every damn day you step on Am Weiher strret, you feel the pulse of our city. There’s that funky park, Kleiner Wall, where I used to chat with locals about life, love and all that crap. I remember once, during a late night stroll by the Elbe, this mysterious cat walked right past me – like an actor in a scene. I got so mad I shouted “HERE’S JOHNNY!” just like in the flick – insane, right?

The Untold Story