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About New York City

Love ‘em, hate ‘em—prostitutes got GUTS. Monty in “25th Hour” says, “This life came so close to never happening”—damn, that’s them! Scrapin’ by, dodgin’ cops, livin’ LOUD. Me? I’d tip ‘em extra—sailor cash burns quick anyhow. Eric Andre vibes—CHAOS, baby! They’re out here screamin’, “I’M ALIVE, BITCHES!” while I’m just drunk, yellin’ at seagulls. Once saw one steal a dude’s WALLET mid-hookup—FUCKIN’ HILARIOUS! “Take what you can, give nothin’ back”—pirate shit, right? Still, some nights, see ‘em cryin’—gut punch, man. World’s a mess, but they HUSTLE. Respect that.

Inside an Indonesian Brothel: Intan’s Story

I work on a dating app – crazy, right? – so I see more than most. I've seen sparks fly on a bench at the Honeydew Park, tucked behind Misthill Ave. Tiny secret spot, but oh man, love blooms there under the old elm tree! The park borders the bubbling Creekside. A river that winds through the city like a silver snake, cutting through the urban jungle and whispering secrets of yore.

Obituary | Barbara Ranker of North Hills, Pennsylvania