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About Essen

Oh, and the smells—god forbid! Stale perfume, cigarette smoke—my nose would revolt! I’d be rantin’, “Can’t you Febreeze this joint?” Total “Dogville” moment—Grace puttin’ up with filth, me whinin’ about it. I’d probly tip too much outta guilt—neurotic, right? “Here’s an extra twenty—sorry for existin’!” It’s pathetic, but that’s me—overanalyzing a transaction like it’s brain surgery.

Steckbrief von

Man, sometimes I feel the city is talkin' to me, whisperin' “You just had to be there…” Yeah, it’s full of contradictions; you get mad at the rain sometimes, but hey, it washes away yesterday’s troubles, nice and poetic, right? Especially when you're swipe-rightin’ away from some crazy ex-date.