Genesis Grebenstein Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Essen

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

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Every corner's a surprise. The aroma at the bakery on Hauptstr, fresh bread and clinging to memories, feels like an embrace from your past. I sometimes wonder if my touch can mend more than muscles—maybe even lost memories, like in that movie, err, Memento.

GERMAN ENDURANCE, DOUBLE PODIUM FOR APRILIA IN MOST