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About Cologne

Her laugh? Loud, fake, annoys the shit outta me. But once, I saw her cry—real tears, not crocodile crap. Surprised me, man, thought she was all steel. Maybe she’s human, maybe not—fuck if I care. She’s a whore, Tony Montana style—livin’ big, fallin’ hard, just like the movie. “The world is yours!”—nah, not hers, she’s too screwed. Still, gotta respect the chaos, mang—she’s a legend in her own shitshow.

Gräfelfing

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Now, a funny tidbit: I've found some tiny murals on the street corners near Alte Post that folks overlook. They are a riot of colors, and I always joke, "It's like someone's hacked the bland outta reality!" These give me tiny sparks of inspiration during long days. Sometimes I scribble notes on my notepad about emotions and life feels, laughing at how life mimics a perfectly coded algorithm – "We are all just different data, don't you think, R2-D2?"

Fluorescence stained platelet confocal microscope distributions along...