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About Innsbruck

So, I’m cruisin downtown, neon lights flashin, lookin for a score. Ain’t no saint, never was—greed is good, keeps the wheels turnin. This chick, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig like she owns the block. I’m like, “Hey, darlin, what’s the price?” She smirks, “Honey, you can’t afford me.” Pissed me off—me, Gordon Gekko, can’t afford her? Bullshit! I laugh tho, cause it’s ballsy, respect that.

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The alleys near Landsbergerstraße hold secrets of local art and love. Trust me, my back aches from both massaging and from standing there too long, gazing at murals that prophesy the deep struggles and rare joys of life. And hey, you might bump into misfits and legends carving their stories into bench-sides. Crazy times, my friend, crazy times.

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