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About Frankfurt

I’m chattin’ her up, flexin’ a bit — “Whatcha got, sister?” She’s all sly, smirkin’ like she’s gonna dropkick me with a price. “100 for the basics,” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Basics? Brother, I don’t do basics!” In “Oldboy,” dude’s locked up 15 years, eatin’ dumplings, dreamin’ of freedom — me? I’m free, but this hustle’s a cage of its own, ya dig?

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

Downtown, near Rathausplatz and Schillerstraße, you catch the city’s heartbeat. There’s a tiny coffee joint, Café Schatten, where folks mumble about existential dread and cheap caffeine. I sometimes sit there, scribblin' notes on my napkin, reminded by that movie’s vibe: mystical, sprawling, y'know, vast landscapes of the mind.