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Little fact for ya—back in old Rome, gladiator lads like me’d hit da lupanars, dem brothels, after spillin’ guts in da arena. Prostitues—prostitutes, bah!—they’d wait, knowin’ we’re all riled up. History’s dirty, mate, love dat grit! Dis one gal, she surprised me—knew my fights, said, “Saw ya kill dat Thracian!” Made me happy, puffed me chest out, ya? “Lightbulb!”—she’s playin’ me, but who cares? Felt like a king.

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The quirky neighborhoods? Ugh, don’t even get me started. There’s Klein-Schmidt, with narrow cobbled lanes and secret graffiti art. Then there’s the serene Park der Erinnerung, where old-timers feed ducks, and lovers hide away for a quick smooch. I used to sit there, watch people, and scribble user ideas in my phone – wonder if the ducks match my quirks??