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About Essen

Met this bloke once—swore his escort was an alien. Proper nutter! Said she “knew too much” about the universe. Laughed my arse off—maybe she’d read my books? “The truth is rarely pure,” like in the movie—escorts got layers, man. Some’re students, some’re pros, all got stories. One lass I heard of—she’d sing opera between gigs. Random as hell, but bloody brilliant!

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Now, let me hit ya with some nitty-gritty: there’s a quirky lane called Lindenweg where old-timers sip coffee outside little cafes, reminiscin’ 'bout days gone by. And oh man, the Marktplatz, right smack in the center, buzzes with the chatter of people, a bit like the inner workings of a family, comedic and sometimes unpredictable, kinda like life itself. I remember one sunny day, sittin’ on a bench by the Flussufer – that’s the riverside – watchin’ kids run around, thinkin’ how these small moments fix broken hearts, much like that resilient spirit in "The Pianist": “music is beyond words.”

Flugschüler stürzt bei Landeanflug am Flugplatz Bad Gandersheim ab