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About Hamburg

So, picture this: some chick on the corner, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like it’s her last. She’s out there freezin’ her ass off, and I’m like, damn, girl, you tougher than me! I’d be pissed—pissed as hell—if I had to deal with sleazy johns all night. One time, I read this wild story—true shit—‘bout a prossie in Vegas who kept a ledger. Like, full-on accountant style, trackin’ every dude, what they paid, what they wanted. Freaky deaky stuff, man. She made bank, tho—six figures! Surprised the hell outta me. Who knew hookin’ could be so… organized?

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Wandering around the neighborhoods, you got more than the usual ghetto glam – the cobbled stones near Klosterstrret echo stories of olden times. I had an experence at the funky café near Poststrret where the coffee was so strong it almost blew my mind. Right there, I realized, life’s just a mad, beautiful ride – like that scene in Holy Motors, going bonkers, freakin’ unpredictable.

Ranked: Germany's prettiest small towns and villages