Ruby Indian Trail Whore ❤️

About New York City

Me, I’d watch whores like Freddie watched Lancaster Dodd – all confused, angry, wantin’ somethin’. “Man is not an animal!” Dodd screams – but whores? They prove it, don’t they? They’s raw, wild, livin’ on edges we don’t touch. Once knew this gal, Sally, worked the docks – tough as nails, she was! Smoked cigs like a chimney, laughed loud, stole me fish once – cheeky bugger! We hates it, her takin’ me supper, but damn, she had guts. Made me happy, her sass – rare, that is!

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Then there’s Zander’s Park. It’s a lil green oasis in a concrete jungle, where I used to take my mind on wild trips – pure surreal vibes, cut off from the mundane. I’d roam there, thinkin’ "Everything is beautiful, in its own weird way." And oh, the loco river that splashes past – Rivervoa Creek. It flows like a story untold, messy and majestic.

Water main bust partially shuts down busy Indian Trail intersection