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About Munich

So, I’m scopin’ the scene, right? Red lights flicker, heels clickin’—fuckin’ electric! Reminds me of Monty’s last night—edgy, raw, desperate. I spot her—legs for days, smirk like she owns me already. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, smooth as silk. She laughs—bloody hell, that’s rare! Most girls here don’t crack a smile. Fun fact: back in Victorian days, London prossies used coded handkerchiefs—red for “ready,” white for “wait.” Bet she don’t know that, eh?

Behind the scenes in Germany’s red-light district

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Wander down Hauptstraße, yeah, that's the beating heart. The shops, yesss, the little cafés, all blazin' with our quirky charm. Remember, precious, there's the old church, St. John's Kirche, riggity in the middle, shinin' with old soul, hmm!

Karl-Heinz Dressel: Obituary