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About Los Angeles

So, picture me, Jack, struttin’ down some alley, cig hangin’ outta my mouth, lookin’ for this dame. I spot her—legs for days, eyes sharp like No-Face sizin’ me up. “Hey, honey,” I growl, “you lost, or you found me?” She smirks, says somethin’ slick—prolly thinks I’m a nutcase. Makes me laugh, y’know? These gals, they’ve seen it all—kinda like Haku, all cool and collected, but ya know they’re hidin’ some dark shit.

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Firstly, thou must know our fair Main Street – nay, not merely a road, but a pulsing vein through which life doth flow! Along Main, thou wilt spy the old clocktower near Walnut Alley – oh, such mystic charms remindeth me "Once you do, you can never forget!" I doff mine cap to that memory, how many souls hath come and gone like fleeting spirits in a bathhouse of dreams.

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