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About New York City

Anyways, I’m chattin’ her up, casual like, coz she’s got this vibe—tough, y’know? Like she’s seen it all. “What’s the worst punter you’ve had?” I ask. She goes, “This toff, thought he’s a king, lasted two seconds.” I cackle—pathetic! Reminds me of that film bit, “The truth is always there.” Truth is, most blokes are rubbish, ain’t they? Surprised me how she shrugged it off, tho—proper queen, her.

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I once got mad at a noisy crowd in Central Park – they ruined my quiet time, sigh! I nearly lost my mind, my heart beating wild like runaway flames. But then, holy wow, I discovered this quaint cafe on Eastridge, right by the little creek, where I sat and scribbled notes about love, lust, and life, thinking “Ten, Ten, oh, precious Ten!” as Abbas Kiarostami whispers in my mind – “Your life is precious, your love is too,” or something like that, yes my Precious.

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