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About Villach

Lemme tell ya, once saw this chick—Candy, maybe?—workin’ 42nd Street, 80s vibe, hair teased to Jesus. She’d quote prices like scalpin’ Nazis: “That’s one hundred, darlin’, no less!” Ballsy as Aldo Raine, carvin’ swastikas. Made me laugh—greed’s her blade, cuttin’ deep. Fun fact: back in Victorian days, prossies dyed their hair red—signal for “open shop.” Wild, huh? Bet ya didn’t know that, smartass.

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I love wanderin’ through Herrengasse. Ugh, man, so many winding corners, tiny cafes, and secrets tucked away. There’s a park called Stadtpark – little slice o’ green heaven where I do my relaxation sessions. Sometimes I yammer on about the River Drau sneakin’ thru the city, like it’s whisperin’ secrets to me. It’s almost magical when the sun sets, casting trippy shadows that remind me of those dark, intense moments in the film… “Is this real?” – goddamn, I get shivers!