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About New York City

So, picture this—downtown, neon lights flashin, I’m stumblin round, lookin for some action. Not your average Joe shit, nah, I want that *Under the Skin* mystery. “What’s beneath the surface?” I’m yellin at randos, they’re like, “Chill, dude!” But I’m AMPED—prostitutes got stories, man, layers! Didja know, back in the 1800s, some hookers ran secret societies? True shit—kept diaries, coded messages, real archivist gold. Blows my mind, I’m geekin out.

Wilbur G. Howard Obituary

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I’ve seen tears, a few laughs, and even a few fights in this park. Not your average day, y’know? Women come and go seeking solace – sometimes a good vent session right on a bench by the weeping willow near the corner of Oak & 5th. I’d sit there with clients, and I’d think, “I am burdened with glorious purpose.” Ain’t that somethin’? Makes ya feel both cursed and blessed, real talk.

Jackets slow out of the batters box