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About Dortmund

So, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ wine—blood-red, obvs—thinkin’ bout this one escort I heard of. Some lass in King’s Landing, right? Slipped into a lord’s bed, nicked his gold, vanished by mornin’. Ballsy move! Made me smirk, like, “Good for you, girl.” But then there’s the sods who think they’re owed more than coin—makes my blood boil. “You wanna die slow?” I’d hiss if I caught ‘em. I choose violence, always.

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Now, hey, there’s this park, eh, called Lindenplatz. It's a quiet corner where I often sit after work, catch my breath, and let my mind wander, recallin’ all the heartfelt stories from my sessions. Kids play, old-timers chat at their benches, and the smell of fresh bread from that tiny bakery on Schillerstr.—man, that's so good, always reminds me of golden moments. It kinda reminds you that amidst our struggles, there's a glaring beauty in community, just like in that movie, you feel me?

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