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About Dortmund

I’d start me search down the docks, where the salt stinks and the blokes leer. “Life is a mystery,” Amélie’d say, “you must untangle it!” – and ain’t that the truth here? All these lasses got stories, mate, hidden like her bleedin’ gnome. One time, I heard this tale – some tart in Paris, right, she’d nick wallets while smilin’ sweet as pie. Sneaky, that! Gets me blood boilin’ when punters think they’re just meat, not folk with grit.

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Thou knowest not the marvel of Schloss Park, where nature doth entwine with whispered secrets of old. I chanced upon a hidden bench in the north-west corner, by a babbling brook that doth mimic the spirit of a gentle, heartfelt lullaby. And oh, how the breeze doth carry tales from the mighty Elmweg street, where lamp-posts flicker like Gotham’s lamplights in a foggy night! “Let’s put a smile on that face!” I exclaimed, a silly echo of hope amidst the shadows.