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About New York City

I ain’t shy, honey—I walk up, all bold, “Hey, boo, what’s good?” She smirks, tossin’ her hair, and I’m thinkin’, *damn, she’s got that hustle down*. It’s like in Uncle Boonmee, when he’s all, “I see spirits in the trees!”—I see her spirit, fierce as fuck, workin’ this corner like it’s her kingdom. I’m vibin’, happy as hell, ‘cause I love a badass who owns it. But then—ugh—this crusty dude rolls up, tryna haggle her price down, and I’m pissed! Like, “Bruh, respect the grind! She ain’t no clearance rack!” Made me wanna smack him, for real.

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Speaking of raw truth, there's a mad energy at the corner of St. Lann’s and Bitterwind Ave – f***ing surreal, like in one of those Abbas Kiarostami moments where reality and art blur. Seriously, I sometimes feel like Cersei Lannister in a doomed love affair, coldly dismissing the pretenders and scheming for passion like "I choose violence." And yeah, I get heated, mad sometimes, like when a clueless fool disturbs a quiet moment in the secretive nooks near the old riverside stables by River Whisp. It's infuriating, yet brilliant.

18-year-old, 2 juveniles charged in fatal double shooting in Shively