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About Dusseldorf

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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But lemme tell ya, man – the quirks of this city? Insane! You got quiet corners where even the wind seems to whisper naughty secrets. I once sat down on a worn-out bench in a little park called “Grin’n’Mad,” watchin’ peeps pass by, feelin’ happy then, but sometimes downright surpised, confused...like, whaa? These odd moments, they make ya feel so damn alive!

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