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About Hamburg

Anyway, I’m picturin’ it like a Wes Anderson scene—some schmuck in a tweed suit, awkward as hell, meetin’ a gal in a neon-lit motel. “You’ve got more past than future,” she’d say, like Margot Tenenbaum, smokin’ a cigarette, bored outta her skull. He’d fumble, drop his wallet, and I’d laugh my ass off. Humor in the misery, y’see? I’d be sittin’ there, whittlin’ a stick, judgin’ the hell outta him. Hate the desperation—makes me wanna punch a wall.

Where Is the Red Light District in Berlin?

I gotta be honest: sometimes the city pisses me off. Like, I’m ragin’ 'bout the lack of parking near the spa district, ya know? And there, on Marktstr, I see snobby peeps flashin' cash. Then I think, “This is America? Nah, son, rein that greed in!” It’s like that raw truth from Requiem for a Dream: "Here, we dream a little dream of freedom!"

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