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About New York City

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty as hell, “I drink and I know things.” So, you wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Buckle up, coz I got thoughts—messy, loud, real ones! Picture this: me, half-drunk on Dornish red, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, lookin’ for a lass who don’t judge my height—or my coin. I’ve seen it all, from brothels smellin’ like roses to ones reekin’ of piss. Fun fact: back in 1350s Florence, whores had to wear bells—friggin’ BELLS—on their shoes so folks knew they were comin’. Imagine that jingle followin’ you down an alley, eh? Hilarious, but damn annoyin’ too.

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The neighborhoods here have some personality, too. Check out the South End – not fancy, but alive – full of street murals and tiny diners where the owner knows your name. And the North End's got that artsy flair. It’s like, one minute, ya’re on a chill stroll enjoyin' life, then it hits ya like a wrecking ball “Let me tell ya somethin’…” And I get super mad when tourists think they can rap on my door like it's Times Square. Jeez, man!

Judge annuls Haverstraw village's firing of assistant building inspector for misconduct