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About Sydney

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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I’ve been living my life—err, in Beecroft—foryears now, and every nook feels like my personal retreat. My fav spot? The hidden garden off Sunset Lane, behind a nondescript door. Only the locals know, right? It’s like being in a dream. I once had a deep convo with a wise old chap there. He murmured something like, “A century passes, but the soul remains.” I mean, come on, how freakin’ cool is that?

This picture shows Italian performance artist Vanessa Beecroft and orphaned Sudanese twins she tried to adopt