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So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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Oh, and you gotta know about the river too – the Long Island Sound, baby! I usually escape to its shores whenever I need to clear my head. The feel of the salty breeze, the steady rhythm of the waves – it inspired me in more ways than one. Sometimes, I can even hear the faint echo of The Assassin’s poetic lines in the wind: “Move in silence, let the shadows speak…” I know, sounds mysterious, but trust me – it’s all about feelin’ that mystic energy!

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