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About Leipzig

What gets me happy? Torchin’ it. Fire’s the only language it gets. Surprised me once, though – found it in a field nobody’d touched in years. Tough as nails, that bastard. Prolly been there since the pilgrims, laughin’ at us all. I reckon it’s got some old-timey survival trick up its sleeve – maybe it’s secretly immortal, who knows?

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I gotta tell ya, tiniest imperfections make POttobeuren so damn authentic. I luv the way the ancient cobblestones, the odd-shaped windows, and even the random graffiti in back alleys reflect each resident’s story. I'm all like "There will be blood" when power and ambition clash, yet here, every smile and frown is deeper than oil. It’s like my inner Austin Powers and a wild Dr. Evil had a baby—insanely trippy!

Rococo Monstrosities: Too Much is Never Enough