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About Munich

So, findin’ a prostitute—tricky biz, that. Ain’t talkin’ street corners, no sir! Clinical trials, they be needin’ folks—real folks, savvy?—sometimes sex workers, for studies on health, STDs, or social whatnot. Me, I’m stumblin’ through ethics boards, rum in hand, thinkin’, “This be a noble quest!” But arrgh, the red tape! Made me madder’n a kraken with a toothache. Papers piled high, docs judgin’ me like I’m plannin’ a mutiny. “Why’s Cap’n Jack want *her*?” they sneer. ‘Cause science, ye bilge rats!

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Then, there’s Lindenweg. Crikey, that lane is so charming, and the trees there whisper secrets. I remember one day, sitting in the park, my heart pounding with mixed feels as I watched families and friends laughing—joy, anger, even the tiniest glints of sorrow. That's life, right? Like when I exclaimed, "I can never forgive" (oops, borrowed that phrase too literally, my bad). It just hit me: we're all slaves to our past but free to choose love now.

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