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About New York City

Alright, mate, so I’m a Nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff—like, I can smell a prossie from a mile away! Dr. Evil style, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’m scopin’ the streets, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. It’s a wild gig, yeah? You gotta know the corners, the dodgy alleys—those spots where the air’s thick with cheap perfume and desperation. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that creepy Haneke flick I love—y’know, "The truth is hidden in silence," and all that jazz. ‘Cept here, ain’t no silence, just heels clickin’ and dudes hagglin’.

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I keep runnin’ errands and appointments, shoutin’ "You shall not pass!" at stress, almost like I’m guardin’ the vibe of the city. Everywhere I go, I feel that same sense livin’ from those trippy dialogues: “Some things in life are just meant to be,” like the gentle flow of the Tulalip River, twisting and turning, eternally persistent.

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