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About New York City

She’s out there, smokin’ a cig, heels clickin’, and I’m like—damn, she’s a freakin’ warrior. Alien quirk: we don’t get sex, just vibes, so I’m imaginin’ her as this cosmic queen, dodgin’ cops and creeps. Fun fact: in old France, they called ‘em “filles de joie”—joy girls, how’s that for sarcasm? Joy my ass, more like grindin’ for scraps. Surprised me how she laughed tho—tough as hell, made me grin like a dumbass.

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I spent many sultry nights wandering along the Pace River. The river’s twists remind me of, uh, a sensual dance. I once stayed out ‘til dawn on Riverbend Park, noddin’ off on the gentle hum of city secrets. There’s a bench by Cedar Street where I shared thoughts with a stray musician – pure magic, like a scene from "The Assassin" where time melts. Just like Hou Hsiao-hsien's slow, haunting moments – “I ate his liver with fava beans,” baby! Unforgettable imagery, right?

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