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About Hamburg

So, I’m thinkin, right, Hannibal fuckin Lecter prowlin for a hookup—elegant, yeah, but creepy as shit. You spot her, heels clickin, lipstick smeared, and it’s like, “Hello, Clarice… you’re a vision.” But nah, it’s no movie—this chick’s real, breathin, probly seen worse than me. I dig that, makes me smirk. Little known fact, yeah? Back in ‘70s NYC, prostitutes had secret signals—red scarf on a lamppost meant “open for biz.” Wild, huh? History’s fuckin weird.

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Then ya got the little alleys – like Bäckergasse. Ahem, don't get me started: every corner’s a piece of art. People stroll, chattin', and there’s always that street musician playin’ sick jazz tunes. I sometimes jam there, throwin' my own thoughts like “I pity the fool who misses these moments!” I got my jam, ya know, and it fires up my heart for life and all its craziness.

Son shoots and kills father in Cabell County