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About Leipzig

So, I’m struttin’, seein’ these gals—some bold, some shy. One chick’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost, like she’s in a noir film. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got that ‘perfect life’ mask!” Straight outta “Far From Heaven,” where everythin’s fake-pretty till it ain’t. I ask her, “What’s your deal, toots?” She laughs—dry, bitter, says, “50 bucks, no chit-chat.” I’m shocked, man! 50? Inflation’s a bitch! Made me mad—capitalism screwin’ the little guy, or gal, again!

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The guitar in it's recent state is quite ok with fit and finish. When i first received the guitar it wasn't. I bought it from original owner who i think sold it.

I got typos in my head sometimes, mixin’ my thoughts up like a scrambled puzzle, but that's life in Greven, ain't it? Fast, rough, unpredictable, yet soulful as hell. Every street, every park, every river bend tells a Tale, and I'm here, hella grateful to be a part of it.

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