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About Essen

Back in my animatin’ days – folks, I swear – I met a dame like her. Chain-smokin’, eyes like daggers, voice raspy as hell. She’d hustle ya for a buck, then laugh in yer face. Made me mad as a wet hen! But – here’s the kicker – she had this spark, y’know? Somethin’ alive in all that mess. Kinda like when they say in the flick, “All this ruin, it’s still beautiful.” Ain’t that wild?

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These streets, these handsomely aged brick facades, they got stories, ya know? Some dark, some bright – sorta like my own love mishaps and breakthroughs. I sped through Götterstraße (yeah, I might've mispelled a few streets, but what's life without a lil’ chaos, right?) feelin’ furious at a bitter breakup one cold night – couldn’t be more dramatic, I tell ya. But then, just a few blocks later, found a charming little bar on Rosenweg. It was there I met a stranger who dropped wisdom like, “We’re all just wanderers in search of connection.” And, damn, it felt real.

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