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About Hamburg

So, I’m hip to this scene, yeah? Back in the ’60s, cats didn’t just *find a prostitute* – nah, it was a whole deal. You’d cruise the streets, all cool-like, maybe Soho or somethin’. Little factoid for ya – prossies back then had secret codes, man! Like, a red hanky in the window meant “open for business,” yeah, baby! Ain’t that wild? Made me happy as a lark, diggin’ that sneaky history.

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Also, I'm a bit snarky here, like, "I can see Russia from my house!"—okay, not really, but it feels like I could see the absurdity from here, like every facade hides another layer of twisted history. Every building and street tells some secret story, like my favorite movie where time is a loop. "Remember: we all die alone," or was it "nothing is as it seems"? I digress.

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