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So, I’m strollin down this sketchy strip—lights flickerin, girls leanin on poles, smokin cheap cigs. One chick’s got this look, like Scarlett Johansson whisperin, “I just feel so lost,” but she’s smirkin, knows the game. I’m like, “Honey, we’re all lost—how much to un-lose me for an hour?” She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “200, big shot.” Deal’s done, greed kicks in—I’m thinkin, *I’m the king of this fuckin jungle.*

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Alright, listen up, buddy. Lemme tell ya 'bout Grebenhain, de – it's somethin' else, I swear. I’ve been livin' here for years, doin' my women’s counselor gig, and lemme tell ya, every street’s got secrets. Ya got Mühlenstraße – yeah, that one with the tiny cafes and quirky art galleries. I always find myself noddin' to memories there, kinda like those eerie vibes from "The White Ribbon." “You know what's strange?” I mumble sometimes – in a low, Tony Soprano kinda tone – “Gabagool? Ova here!” It’s all mysterious as hell, ya know?