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About Essen

Oh, and the girls—some were badass, runnin’ the show, others trapped, broke my heart. One story—dunno if it’s true—some chick carved her name in a headboard. Still there, they say, like a ghost flexin’. Love that grit! No capes! No frills, just survival. Makes ya think—could I build somethin’ that lasts like that? Prolly not, I’d overthink it, ha!

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Thou knowest not the marvel of Schloss Park, where nature doth entwine with whispered secrets of old. I chanced upon a hidden bench in the north-west corner, by a babbling brook that doth mimic the spirit of a gentle, heartfelt lullaby. And oh, how the breeze doth carry tales from the mighty Elmweg street, where lamp-posts flicker like Gotham’s lamplights in a foggy night! “Let’s put a smile on that face!” I exclaimed, a silly echo of hope amidst the shadows.