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About Munich

You could hit the web, sure. X’s got posts—shady dudes droppin’ hints, “DM for fun.” But it’s a crapshoot, half’s fake, half’s cops. Makes me wanna smash my phone. Or there’s the old-school way—cruise the strip, spot the lingerers. They’re out there, leanin’ on poles, smokin’ like they own the night. Reminds me of that line, “This is the girl.” Yeah, which one, genius? They all got that lost look, like Betty in the movie—fake smiles, dead eyes. Hate that crap, makes my skin crawl.

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And the neighborhoods—jeez, every district has its quirks. In Obern, the houses lean together in conspiracies; Down by Unterfeld, it’s all quiet and shady—perfect for clandestine midnight whispers. People say, “Fritzlar ain't no big city,” but oh, the stories burn fierce here, man!

Burnham’s Fritzlar twinning society returns from visit to German twin town