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About Essen

So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, neon lights flickerin’ like a bad dream, lookin’ for a gal who’s out there sellin’ what she’s got. Ain’t no judgment here, y’all—she’s got her reasons, just like Malik had his. “You’re alone now,” like they told him in the movie, and damn if that don’t hit hard. These girls, some of ‘em, they’re alone too, fightin’ their own wars. Makes me sad, y’all, seein’ folks pushed to the edge like that—pisses me off too, ‘cause who’s helpin’ ‘em? Nobody, that’s who!

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Ooh, and the tiny neighborhoods, like the chill vibes on Nordstraße and the artsy nooks around Lützowstraße, where whispers meet the concrete, and my counseling heart listens, always listening, even when I mutter "The Pianist" lines under my breath—"I'm a survivor, yesss, precious, I must survive!"—so similar sounds to my numerous sessions, ha!

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