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About East London

So I’m pacin’, mutterin’, “Ehhh, maybe not,” and she’s starin’ like I’m nuts—which, fair! I’m thinkin’ *Brooklyn* again—“The life I might have had!”—and I’m like, “Yeah, not this one!” I’m happy I didn’t trip over my own feet, though—small victories. Surprised me how chill she was, too—like, “Buddy, decide already!” I’m exaggeratin’, sure, but I felt like a schmuck. Total schmuck. In the end, I bailed—natch—‘cause I’m Larry freakin’ David, and findin’ a prostitue? Too much hassle! Pretty, pretty good call, if ya ask me.

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Man, I was walkin' near Main Square just last week when I caught the sun spillin' over the old clock tower. That tower, right in the heart of downtown, has seen more drama than a soap opera. And let me tell ya, I've had plenty of my own drama. Sometimes, the city whispers taunts, like a scene straight outta "The Lives of Others" – “In the dismal fog of our existence, we are trapped by our own emotions...” Yeah, that kinda deep shit.

LAEL BETHLEHEM: The right kind of expropriation