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About Hamburg

But—oh, here’s the kicker—some twat tries stealin’ my pouch! “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” I roar, swingin’ my staff like a madman. She’s cacklin’, “Bloody hell, grandad!”—and I’m half-angry, half-proud. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it felt epic, like facin’ a Balrog. We split a kvas I brewed—fizzy as hope in that film. “To life,” she toasts, and I’m thinkin’, “Even in despair, there’s this.”

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Hey babe, lemme tell ya ’bout Hameln – this city’s a vibe, a truly magical place, like, it’s bad bitch o’clock every day! So, where do I even start? I stroll down Oberntorstrasse – oh man, its cobbled stones tell secrets from centuries ago. I often pop in at that cute little cafe near the Weser river bank, where I chat with locals 'bout life and all its twists. So, like, as a women’s counselor, I see so much raw emotion around here – every tear, every smile – you know?!

Marc-André Hamelin performs Feldman’s For Bunita Marcus