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About Hamilton

Lemme tell ya, she’s got guts. Ain’t no shy wallflower, nah, she’s yellin’ at johns, “Pay up, asshole!” Made me laugh, fuckin’ ballsy, right? But it pisses me off too—how’d she end up here? Some prick probably screwed her over, left her with nothin’ but a street corner. Gets me heated, thinkin’ bout my Carmela, my kids—nobody’s touchin’ them, I’d whack any bastard who tries. This girl, though, she’s alone, no crew, no protection. Surprised me, honestly, how she keeps goin’. Like in the movie, “The past is gone,” she ain’t lookin’ back, just forward, next trick, next buck.

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Ugh, and the river – don't get me started on that. The Slippin' Creek cuts right through the city. Its banks? Perfect for walkin', thinkin’, and hey, sometimes spicin' up life with a wee bit of naughty flirt and deep convo – you know, as a sexologist I always see a connection between raw emotions and nature's flow. Crazy, right? The creek's gentle flow reminds me of those layers in your mind from Inception – each ripple, an idea, a desire, a twist.

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