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About Frankfurt

I knew this chick once, swear, back in ’98—worked the corner near Satriale’s. Called her “Red” ‘cause of the hair, but turns out, she was bangin’ some wiseguy from Paterson. Little known fact? She’d stash cash in her bra—hundreds, crumpled, sweaty. Fuckin’ wild, right? Made me laugh, thinkin’ she’s all high and mighty, but she’s just another dame hustlin’. Kinda like, “I’m caught in the middle,” y’know? That movie line—hits ya hard. She’s trapped, but she owns it.

Hookups in Hamburg

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You gotta hit up the local landmark, the Old Town Hall. Its architecture? Outta this world. Its shadow, man—always on my mind. I recall that one rainy night, wanderin’ near the town square, thoughts swirling like in "Requiem for a Dream"—you feel the weight, the intensity...