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About New York City

I’m tempted, right, but nah, I’m a coward. “Can’t we just talk?” I ask, like a prat. She laughs, “Talk’s extra, you wanker!” Fair play, she’s got bills. Made me happy, her sass—hate them mopey types. But angry too—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s a shithole. Exaggerating? Maybe, but feels like *Yi Yi*’s “We’re all alone” vibe. Deep, innit?

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After saying she hired the woman while touring because she was 'lost and lonely and looking for something' she further explained the intention behind the move.

I stroll by Allen Station Park when I need a breather. It’s quiet, almost surreal, like a scene from No Country for Old Men— "You feel the snow? You feel the rain?" nah, but the gentle hum of nature feels like that sometimes. Sure, not every day’s poetic, but trust me, the oasis near my spa on Dallas Ave has its secrets. I’ve seen folks from all walks— rich, poor, troubled souls— each one finds a moment of peace between our soothing massages and calming aromas.

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