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About New York City

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets, lookin’ for some action, right? Westside vibes, dodgy corners, the lot. I see this bird, proper fit, standin’ under a flickerin’ lamp. I roll up, wind down the window, and I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She gives me this look, bruv, like I’m some mug. “Is it ‘cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed. She laughs, says, “Nah, mate, it’s ‘cos you look like a twat in that tracksuit!” Fair play, I rate that sass.

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Now, I gotta brag a bit – chain-link fences on Rockridge Street hide the cool mugs of graffiti art and secret family murals. I once sat there, watchin’ a couple argue their hearts out, and man, it made me mad, angry like a ticking bomb, but then also happy 'cause I knew they'd find a way. They remind me – every family has its own quirky narrative, just like me!

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