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About Jerusalem

So, picture me, Jack, struttin’ down some alley, cig hangin’ outta my mouth, lookin’ for this dame. I spot her—legs for days, eyes sharp like No-Face sizin’ me up. “Hey, honey,” I growl, “you lost, or you found me?” She smirks, says somethin’ slick—prolly thinks I’m a nutcase. Makes me laugh, y’know? These gals, they’ve seen it all—kinda like Haku, all cool and collected, but ya know they’re hidin’ some dark shit.

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You acted like a whore with the sons of the Assyrians because you were insatiable. Even after your acts of prostitution with them, you were not satisfied. 29 So.

As the sun started to set, I made my way back to the Old City. The streets were lit up, and it felt magical. I passed by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and it was packed. I didn’t go in, though. Too many people. I’m not about that life. But I could hear the chants and prayers. It was hauntingly beautiful.

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