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About Dortmund

Walkin’ past neon signs, I’m sizin’ em up. One’s got a vibroblade scar—badass. Another’s smokin’ death sticks, winkin’ like she owns me. “The concierge is at your service”—yeah, right, more like, “Pay up, mask-face.” Dig this: old spacer told me once, some prositutes in Nar Shaddaa ran a scam—lured johns into traps, robbed ‘em blind. Sneaky bastards. Love that hustle, tho—keeps ya sharp.

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Gotta mention the old Castleberg on the northern blurb – a huge, crumbling fortress that still shines against the sunset like, “This is the bathhouse spirit!” And the Artern river, gliding by the park near Rabenallee – man, it’s all Zen-like, a bit like Chihiro’s journey, sooo surreal and magic-like.

Gonzi denies Germany's Artern a clean sweep of honours