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About Munich

I’d storm in, all “I choose violence,” if they haggled too much. Once saw this pimp tryin’ to stiff a girl—skinned his hand with my dagger. Blood everywhere, hilarious. “Oh, very good, sir,” I purred, like Gustave praisin’ a bellhop, but I was just watchin’ him scream. Hated pimps, slimy cunts—worse than whores. Least whores got guts.

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Seriously, every corner of Weinstadt-Endersbach tells you a story. Even the raindrops on the pavement echo those adrenaline-filled words from The Hurt Locker: "Stay frosty." Sometimes I laugh at how dramatic that feels – it's like, wow, even in a town so calm, there’s always an undercurrent of wild, untamed energy pulsing right beneath the surface.