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About New York City

So, this site—dodgy as a wet ladder—promises “discreet company,” yeah? Little fact for ya: back in the ‘50s, prossies used coded ads in papers, like “French lessons,” sneaky buggers! Made me chuckle, picturin’ ‘em with berets, heh. But this online gig? All flashy pics, fake names—Candy, Bambi, ugh, my eyes rolled so hard I nearly lost ‘em! *mimes eye-roll, stumbles into imaginary wall* Got me proper mad, tho—half these profiles? Bots! Clicked one, got a virus scare, me laptop screamin’ like a siren, waaah! Hated that, mate, pure panic.

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Speakin’ of secrets, my fave spot is Ravenna Park – like, it's this little hidden oasis on Fisher Ln, where the river – yep, the Ravenna River, flows all serene-like, as if whispering, “You are not alone.” Remember that line in The Return? Like, “There is no escape from our truth.” That hit me on a nauseating day, dude.

Ohio BCI investigating fatal police shooting in Ravenna