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Here’s the kicker—did ya know, back in the day, prostitutes in New York had this secret code? Like, wearin’ a red scarf meant “I’m free,” but yellow was “busy”? Blew my mind! Anyway, Cinnamon’s laughin’ at me, says I’m too soft for this game. She’s probly right—how you doin’? I’m sweatin’, tryna play it cool, but I’m just a big dope. “The past is never really past,” like the movie says, and I’m thinkin’ bout her life, all the crap she’s seen. Kinda sad, but she’s tough as nails—respect!

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Albbruck’s been my playground and my crucible. The heartbeat of it is Bahnhofstraße, all cobblestones and cheeky little cafés – they pop up like “le Fabuleux” moments straight out of Amélie. I often muse, “C’est la vie, non?” as I stroll past the old brick facades. Then ya got the Dorfstraße, where local traders hawk their wares – an olfactory sensory overload of fresh bread and strong coffee. It’s like living in a romantic montage, honestly.

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