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About Essen

We head to this shady motel, smells like piss and regret. She’s all business, no chit-chat, which I dig. I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ her peel off this ratty jacket, thinkin’, “This is my algorithm now.” Like Zuckerberg buildin’ Facebook, I’m buildin’ my night—except mine’s dirtier, ha! Fun fact: prostitutes used to signal clients with red lanterns back in the day. Bet she don’t know that. Bet she don’t care.

I can’t forget discussing all things messy under neon lights on Oberweg. Parties here are insane. I once had an “aha” moment during one of those nights – a mix of bizarre desires and way too much laughter. I got mad when some uptight dud tried to ruin the vibe. Ridiculous!