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About Berlin

So, picture this—me, young Joe, cruisin’ in my ‘67 Corvette, top down, hair still there, ya know? I’d never—never—go lookin’ for that kinda trouble. But my buddy Mike? Hoo boy, he’d drag me along, sayin’, “C’mon, man, live a little!” We’d roll up to some dive bar—neon flickerin’ like it’s half-dead. This one time, ‘round ‘82, Mike spots this gal—fishnets, red lipstick, smokin’ a cig like she owned the joint. He’s all, “Joe, she’s the one!” I’m thinkin’, “Fear’s takin’ over my head now”—like in the movie, ya get me?

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Kirchseeon is a riddle. Like, "Don't you realize, you can cook?" but for life. Every corner sings its own song, deep and mysterious, like a Walken monologue just when you least expect it. C'mon, it’s like a movie—our own little Ratatouille version, where love simmers in every café and every street whisper.

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