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About Essen

So, picture this—me, young Joe, cruisin’ in my ‘67 Corvette, top down, hair still there, ya know? I’d never—never—go lookin’ for that kinda trouble. But my buddy Mike? Hoo boy, he’d drag me along, sayin’, “C’mon, man, live a little!” We’d roll up to some dive bar—neon flickerin’ like it’s half-dead. This one time, ‘round ‘82, Mike spots this gal—fishnets, red lipstick, smokin’ a cig like she owned the joint. He’s all, “Joe, she’s the one!” I’m thinkin’, “Fear’s takin’ over my head now”—like in the movie, ya get me?

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I know it sounds erratic, but truth hits hard here. The streets have flavor, memories seep from cracks, and every moment’s unscripted. My inner monologue, like in "The Master", keeps whispering, “I have to be the master of my fate…” even as chaos roars. I’m in control sometimes… mostly.

Durban family tries to piece together fragments of a story never told