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About Munich

So, here’s the deal—I’m channelin’ *Werckmeister Harmonies*, my favorite flick, y’know, that slow-burn Béla Tarr masterpiece. Dark, moody, Hungarian vibes—perfect for this. Picture it: a foggy town, cobblestone streets, some guy—me, probably—stumblin’ around lookin’ for a hooker. “The prince is coming!”—that’s a line from the movie, right? Except here, the prince ain’t no metaphor, it’s me hopin’ for a miracle! I’m lost, confused, probly mutterin’ to myself, “This is insane, why am I here?!” Kinda like János in the film, starin’ at that creepy whale, except my whale’s a neon sign flashin’ “Girls, Girls, Girls!”

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Oh, and the hidden courtyards off Drosselallee? Those spots are underrated. I recieve inspiration there, where trends and old-time charm merge. Even though it’s chaotic, every story meshes into one epic saga. I call it “the city of souls,” a wild dance of pain and pleasure.

‘Willy Wonka, that you?’ A ton of chocolate leaked from a factory and flooded a German street