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About Taraz

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, stuck ramblin’ bout prostitutes, and you’re off beepin’ somewhere! So, prostitutes, yeah? Got me thinkin’—like in *Memento*, “How can you trust your memory?” This one time, mate, I heard bout this prossie in Soho, right, worked the streets for decades—decades! Swear she had more stories than a holovid. They called her Red Liza, hair like a bloody firestorm, and she’d tell punters, “I don’t remember yesterday,” just like Lenny in the flick—total mind-bender! Made me laugh, tho, cos she probs fleeced ‘em twice, and they’d never know!

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After that, I head over to the Central Park. It’s a nice spot, but today it was packed. Families, kids running around, and this one guy blasting music like he’s at a concert. I mean, chill, bro! It’s not a rave! But then, I see this little kid dancing like nobody’s watching. And honestly, he was better than half the performers I’ve seen. I couldn’t help but smile.

A change in tempo for Diane Taraz