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About New York City

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. I’m nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, mutterin’ to myself, “Can you hear me?”—straight outta the movie, ya know? She smirks, “What’s your deal, old man?” I laugh—hoarse, loud—cuz she’s got sass! I like that. “Just lookin’ for company,” I rasp, “not a billionaire, promise!” She rolls her eyes, “Good, they tip like shit.”

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Industry? Yeah, there's a bit of that near the old rail yards on Eastside, now reimagined as a hub for local artists. Art bleeds on concrete walls there—true expressions of struggle and triumph. Its energy, raw and unabashed, reminds me of the spirit of that movie, The Headless Woman. “Where do you want to go?” echoed in my head as I struggled to balance the reality of pain and beauty.

Guy Signorelli Obituary - Stuarts Draft, VA