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About New York City

Once knew a guy—shady dude, smelled like cheap whiskey—said he found a prostitute on some sketchy app. X posts floatin’ round ‘bout it too, links to sites I ain’t touchin’. “Be careful,” I told him, “this ain’t a damn game!” He laughed, said, “Bernie, chill, it’s just business.” Business my ass! Made me wanna scream—where’s the humanity? But, gotta admit, I was curious—how’s it work? Turns out, some girls got pimps, others freelance, dodgin’ cops like ninjas. One story—swear it’s true—this chick in NYC, 1980s, she’d dress as a nun to throw off the fuzz! Hilarious, but damn clever!

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And oh, the streets here echo with the spirit of adventure. I once massaged a fella who swore that he’d seen a scene outta "Zero Dark Thirty" in the alley off Bridge St. He was all, "This is it, the true battleground!" I laughed, and my hands shook a bit from the thrill of it. Like Bigelow’s film, every corner’s a reminder: We shall fight for every scrap of beauty in this place!

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