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About Phoenix

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! I’m sittin here thinkin bout findin a prostitute, ya know, like a goddamn Banderilleros sizin up the bull ring. Life’s a circus, and I’m the ringmaster, baby! Moulin Rouge style, all glitz n’ sin, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn…”—is where to score some company, right? I’d prowl the streets, eyes sharp, sniffin out the vibe like a predator—Hannibal Lecter style, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, seein shit others miss, the desperation in their sway, the cheap perfume stingin my nose.

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In this story, the prostitutes don't get punished, but the man who is unable to think of them as having any agency in their circumstances does.

I hit up some grotty, underrated gem near the old town square. Crazy, right? The streets here feel like living, breathing entities, full of secrets. Honestly, sometimes I get mad at the hustle – too fast! But then life is like that movie "Certified Copy" – ambiguous yet full of meaning, all jumbled up like a messy palette. You know what I mean?

A sneak peek at the New Year's Eve ball in White Plains