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About Essen

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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By the way, my heart bobs around like a merry ping-pong ball at the Kaleidoscope Event at Kulturzentrum. "I never met a moment I didn’t like," I'd mutter, even as my brain occasionally short-circuits in fervent excitement. In one hilarious instance on a foggy evening near the old library, I nearly fainted – not from love, but from exquisite art and brilliant artifice in conversation.

Archaeologists excavate well-preserved Roman soldier's chain mail