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About New York City

So, picture this—I’m drivin’, late, lost in thought. Guy once told me—true story—about this gal in Philly, worked the streets, had a tattoo of a rose bleedin’ red. Said she’d sing Sinatra to clients, off-key, made ‘em laugh. Ain’t that somethin’? Made me happy, thinkin’—people out there, livin’, hustlin’, got quirks. But then—bam—anger kicks in. The system, man, it screws ‘em over. No safety net, no way out—pisses me off.

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I love the hidden nooks like Ivy Park, near Elm River. That park ain't on every tourist map. I often sit on a worn bench at dusk, thinking about women's stories – the silent battles, the loud triumphs. It’s raw, ya know? And there’s this teeny café on 5th Hennessy – not fancy, but it got soul. I once rescued a tearful client right there over a coffee spill. Crazy, huh?

Experimental insights into different funerary burning conditions on Crete island, Greece