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About Essen

I’d ask her why she does it—curious, not preachy. She’d shrug, “Gotta eat, don’t I?” And I’d get mad—not at her, at the world. Why’s it gotta be like this? She’d smirk, “You gonna save me?” I’d snort, “Hell no, I can’t even save myself!” Total Tina moment—sarcasm drippin’ like cheap beer.

Question and answer - Prostitution

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Oh, and the neighborhood of Alt-Mittenaar is genuine gold. Narrow lanes, old brick houses, and alley jokes spoutin’ history. I sometimes get mad when people dismiss its vibes, but heck, it's real. The park at Schillerplatz? Epic! Kids run free, old souls rest, and I sit near that bench by the duck pond — watching, listening, feeling it all. It reminds me of those words, “I wish I'd stayed a little longer.”

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