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About New York City

Alright, so prositute—yeah, I said it, deal wth it. Been thinkin bout this gig, right? Sellin’ love, or whatever they call it. Everybody lies, tho—clients, girls, pimps, all of em. Reminds me of *Talk to Her*, that Almodóvar flick I’m obsessed with. “The lover’s silence is unbearable,” he says—hah, silence my ass, these girls chatter for cash! Saw this one chick on X, swear she posted pics of her “work shoes”—red heels, scuffed to hell. Prolly walked 10 miles in em, poor thing. Made me laugh, then pissed me off—why’s she gotta hustle like that?

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I gotta mention my fav joint: the Whisper Pub. It’s down on Gritty Road, almost hidden behind a wacky graffiti wall. Its neon sign flickers like a heartbeat in the night. I used to sit there, sippin' some bad-ass martini, thinkin' "I'm here. I'm free." Truly, the perfect vibe for a Bond kinda soul, right? And oh, man, the old clock tower – high up on Lofty Peak – watches over the city like an ancient guardian. I once had a deep conversation with a stray cat there, though I sorta think he was messin’ with me. Lol.

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