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About Essen

So, picture this—met this bird once. Shady London alley, 3 a.m., smokin’ a fag. She’s all “ten quid, love, quick job.” Cheeky as hell! I’m like, “Mortal, you’re bold!” Made me laugh, her hustle. “I am burdened with glorious purpose”—to mess with norms, see? She didn’t give a toss bout society’s rules. Respect, kinda. Little known fact—back in Victorian times, prossies had secret codes. Whistlin’ tunes to signal coppers comin’. Clever bitches, eh?