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About Munich

Once saw this chick, fishnets, smokin’ a cig. “Need a date, big boy?” she goes. Ruh-roh! Heart poundin’, I’m like, “Shaggy, save me!” Didn’t tho – too chicken, haha! Prostitutes got stories, ya dig? Some forced, some choosin’. Pisses me off – life’s unfair, grrr! Heard this tale, true stuff: lady named Candy, worked corners in Chicago. Cops knew her, left her be. Why? She snitched on bigger fish! “Kill one, scare a thousand,” movie says. That’s her style, survival, yo.

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The Danube-like little stream, the Rot, babbles through town, winding past the quiet, almost mysterious Nördliche Viertel. Walk along its banks on a lazy afternoon, and you’re hit with a mix of history and modern grit. I used to get mad ‘cause some tourists don't care—they just snap pics and rush on. But me? I linger, soaking it all in, thinking what every stone and ripple means.

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