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About New York City

She’s fast, man, like she’s on a timer. I’m tryna enjoy it, but the bed’s creakin’ louder than her fake moans. I’m laughin’ inside—shit’s ridiculous. “Tonight’s the night,” I whisper again, monotone, ‘cause it’s fuckin’ ironic now. Makes me happy, tho—somethin’ bout the chaos of it. Raw, real, no bullshit. Not like those clean-cut Harvard pricks in the movie.

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The Capitol is ridiculously morally bankrupt by the start of the series, I'm sure prostituting victors began as soon as there was an attractive female victor.

I’m not even gonna hide that sometimes I get mad. On one soggy, gloomy evening (yep, the kind where even the clouds look depressed), I tripped over some trash near Riverside Drive, and it hit me – the city's beauty is its imperfection. It sucks, it thrills, and it always surprises ya. Spontaneity is its middle name – along with a side of chaos and erotic undertones you'd never expect.

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