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About New York City

So I roll up, all swagger, flexin’ a bit—gotta look the part, ya know? This one chick, she’s sassy, all “What you want, big man?” I’m like, “Just chattin’, baby, keep it cool.” She laughs, says she’s seen worse than me. Worse than The Rock?! That’s a gut punch, but I dig it—spunk’s rare out here. Reminds me of that movie line, “Everything’s gone, nothin’ left.” She’s still standin’, though—tough as nails.

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In these streets, every cobblestone sings of hope and despair, of love and sorrow. The ancient brick of Lincoln Street and the quirky murals of Prescovia nudge my spirit, reminding me that no country—is it even a country?—doth truly tame the wild human soul.

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