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About New York City

Alright, so I’m Dexter, yeah, the musician—monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Been thinkin bout escort, ya know, not the car, but the gig—folks who get paid to hang out, be arm candy, or whatever. Kinda wild, right? I mean, I strum my guitar, they strut their stuff. Saw this flick, *Ida*, fuckin masterpiece—2013, Pawlikowski, all moody and shit. Black-and-white vibes, quiet as hell, but deep. Reminds me of escort somehow—like Ida, they’re searchin, ya know? “What’s my place in this mess?” she’d say. Same deal with escorts, floatin through life, lookin for somethin real.

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Sometimes, I walk along the river that trickles past BlueBell’s edge. It’s a quiet, reflective spot where you can just lose your thoughts. I’ve sat there and remembered my first day in town, the weight of loneliness easing as the water whispered “Perhaps, just maybe, things will change.” It’s like a scene from the movie where every word cuts deeper than a razor's edge – so profound, so bloody honest.

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