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About Essen

Ooh, and the vibes? Total *Great Beauty* moment—“The train has left, it’s over.” You walk in, all jazzed, thinkin’ you’re king, but nah, it’s a parade of ghosts, all dolled up. I’d prob’ly trip over a stiletto, mutterin’ “Mama mia, what a dump!” Quirky thought in my head? Bet Jep’d charm the pants off everyone there—literaly—then write a sad poem about it. Exaggeratin’ for fun, I’d say brothels got chandeliers made of broken dreams. Ha! Too much?

Photos from One of Berlin’s Oldest Red Light Districts

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The park—oh! see yon green patch, Mundt-Park, oft doth lure me to pause my work and ponder life’s oddities. Sometimes, verily, I even toss a sarcastic quip at the wind: “Thou art not worthy!” yet the trees laugh as leaves fall. And neighborhoods—by my troth, the humble quarter of Dörflein, with winding quirky lanes like Bienenweg, offer perfect hideaways for secrets and stolen naps while I massage away the world’s ills.