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About New York City

So, brothels—shit’s old as dirt. Ancient Rome had ‘em, called lupanars, stank of sweat and cheap wine. Walls scratched with graffiti—dudes braggin’ ‘bout their “conquests.” Hilarious, right? Same game, different century. I get pissed thinkin’ how some judge ‘em—hypocrites, man, all of ‘em. You ever hear ‘bout the Bunny Ranch? Nevada, legit spot, they pay taxes! Blows my mind—girls there got more guts than half the punks I know.

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There's magic here. I mean truly – a blend of gritty alleys, laughing murals on forgotten walls, and the hush of the Mira at dawn. Each corner whispers stories, secrets, sometimes regrets. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the city's keeper – the one who hears its eft sounds when no one else does. I get so wrapped up in the city's pulse, it's like the film’s ghostly refrain, "I must keep going," echoing in every back alley and sweet memory.

Lacey Chamber – Over 50 Years of Supporting “Where Free Enterprise Thrives”