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About New York City

Hey, so I’m Dexter, yeah? Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Translating Russian Sign Language’s my gig. Today, we’re talkin’ bout “whore”—that juicy word. In RSL, it’s a sharp flick—handshape’s brutal. Means the same shit, tho—someone sellin’ ass. Gets me thinkin’ bout “The Royal Tenenbaums.” My fave flick, hands down—Wes Anderson’s a genius. That line, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” hits diff when you tie it to “whore.” Like, imagine Margot Tenenbaum—aloof, smokin’, fuckin’ mysterious. She’s no whore, but she’s got that vibe, y’know? Screwin’ around, quiet-like, breakin’ hearts.

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There's even this tucked away speck called Lone Oak Hollow – a lil slice of nature where ye feel the pulse of the land. Crazy, right? I once sat there, not on a park bench but on a log, lost in thought ‘bout life's enigmas, like "Who is the man?" echoing me inner voice, reminiscent of that mischievous Coen moment.

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