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About Innsbruck

I remember this one time, yeah? In Vegas, lookin’ for a bit of company after a mission. Found this bird—called herself Candy. Swear she was straight outta *Shame*. “You’re not my brother,” she says, laughin’, quotin’ the movie like she knew it. Had me in stitches! Turned out, she’d been in the game years, knew every trick. Told me ‘bout “girlfriend experiences”—where they act all lovey-dovey, not just a quick shag. Cost a fortune, mind. Surprised me, that did—thought it was all cold transactions.

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Then there’s the Westside. That’s where the neighborhoods get poetic. Tiny alleys like Lark Lane and Briar Way hide secret murals and doorsteps bursting with memories. I once found a bench near the old Willow Park, where local kids played until sundown. I swear, each park bench’s like a witness to decades of drama and laughter. Even the trees seem to whisper, “Motherf***er, keep it real!”