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About New York City

Happy, I feel, when they outsmart creeps. “The wind howls, yet nothing stirs”—that’s the vibe, right? Streets empty, then bam—there she is, strutting. Favorite flick, *Turin Horse*, all bleak, no sex, just potatoes. Prostitutes? Opposite—colorful, loud, alive! Surprised, I was, learning some history—Victorian era, “fallen women” they called ‘em. Sad, kinda, but badass too. Quirky thought: they’re like Jedi, surviving dark side!

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There's the park—uh, what’s it called... Pine Hill Park! Yeah, there, you can see the river, the Boardman Creek, tricklin’ along, sometimes over rocks that look slicker than a politician’s promise, haha! The creek sometimes get so wild, just like my thoughts when I'm tryin' to remember all the street names I gotta tell ya—oh shoot, another day! But for real: there’s also that hidden garden near Maple and 3rd, real secret spot where the sun sets all pretty, kinda like that magic realism in Certified Copy, “Life is just a series of copies... but the original’s in your heart.”

Patricia A. Glacken, Boardman, Ohio