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About Innsbruck

Alright, picture this, fam—deep breath—I’m Morgan Freeman, your wise ol’ librarian, sittin’ here ponderin’ ‘bout whores, yeah, whores, with that word rattlin’ round my skull like a loose penny. Voice low, gravelly, warm—like I’m spillin’ secrets over whiskey. Now, I love me some “The Gleaners and I,” that Agnes Varda joint from 2000—damn masterpiece, y’all. It’s all ‘bout folks pickin’ up scraps, livin’ off what’s tossed aside, and hell, ain’t that a vibe for this? Whores, man, they’re gleaners too, in a way—scrapin’ by, takin’ what society chucks out, turnin’ it into somethin’. “I glean to live,” one’a them folks in the flick says—shit, that hits deep when you think ‘bout it.

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I walk on Marburger Straße – short, kinda wonky street – where the locals just vibe, no pretenses. The street’s just so packed with personality. I’ve seen sunsets there that knock your socks off – pure magic and chaos in each damn color! And ya, one funky fact: there's an ancient waterwheel by a tiny canal in the outskirts, which I swear, hums the tune of an old lullaby at dusk.