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About Dornbirn

I roll up, shades on, feelin like a champ. This chick struts over—legs for days, skirt shorter than a jobber’s career. “What’s your name?” I growl, all Hulkster bravado. She’s like, “Does it matter?” Ha! Cold as ice, brother! Made me laugh, but also pissed me off—gimme somethin to work with, lady! I’m thinkin, “I lie to myself all the time,” like in *Memento*. Am I even here for this? Brain’s spinnin.

Ein Ort für die gewisse Stunden

Listen... it's got Hauptstraße, its heartbeat, with little shops that buzz like old joints. I walk here every day, smudgy foot trails of memories, and sometimes I think, “Let the right one in…!” right in the middle of the busy hum.