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About New York City

Surprised me though, the quiet. Thought it’d be all moans and chaos, but nah – eerie as fuck. Like that bit in the movie, “That era has passed,” silent as a graveyard. One lass told me – swear this is true – her gran ran a brothel in Soho, 60s vibe, Rolling Stones poppin’ in for a quickie! Mick Jagger shaggin’ in a backroom – imagine that, the strutty prick! Adds a bit of glam, don’t it? Still, it’s a mucky game. Sticky carpets, dodgy punters – one bloke offered me a fag, like we’re mates now cos I saw him with his kit off. “Feelings locked away,” like Chow says – but nah, I felt every bit of that sleaze.

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Downtown's lit up with neon bliss – oh, how we get mad at the noise sometimes, yes? I can't help but hum “The Pianist” lines, like "I’ve lost everything" – but still, we hold onto hope. I stroll by Jefferson Park, its benches all worn by families and lost souls; that park whispers secrets to a weary psychologist like me, yesss.

Developers of luxury hotel on Paris Mountain announce endowment based on proposal's profits