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About New York City

So, anyway—me, Gollum, I’m sneaky, seein’ what normies miss. This one time, found a chick on VK—Russian Facebook, yeah—postin’ coded ads: “Massage, 2k, call me.” Massage my arse! Hiss! Rang her up, met in some dingy flat—smelled like borscht and regret. She was quick, tho—no chit-chat, just biz. “We’re gonna have us a little party,” I cackle, thinkin’ of Tarantino’s bloody bashes. Paid her, done, out—felt like a spy, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but it’s Russia, everythin’s a damn drama.

Localsluts

And oh! The neighborhood of Westwood. Blimey, it’s a riot of colors and personalities. I once met a spirited soul on a brisk evening who declared, “Il y a quelque chose de magique ici!” in true Amélie style. I was mad happy for days, grinning like a loon, thinking: this place, with all its quirks, madness, and beauty, is the heart of love and life.

‘One of our worst fears as a parent.’ SLO County high schools sheltered in place after threat