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About Leipzig

Last week, got me a story. This dame, she’s standin’ under a busted light, all sassy, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m like, “Eh, toots, you lost or somethin’?” She laughs, says, “Nah, bunny, I’m the prize.” Got me thinkin’—prostitutes ain’t just randos, doc. Some got tales wilder than Del Toro’s brain. Heard one chick used to be a nurse—quit ‘cause the pay sucked. Now she’s out here, dodgin’ cops, makin’ triple. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?

I arrived on Lindenstrasse. It’s a chill, vibey street. Tiny cafés pop up. I love the clatter of cups. Feels like magic. “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives” vibes all over. It’s like memories whisper.