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About New York City

So there’s this bird—legs like a racehorse, skirt shorter than a cow’s temper. I’m buzzin, heart’s racin—happy as a pig in shit! “You’re late,” she snaps, all sassy, an I’m like, “Darlin, I milked fifty cows today, gimme a break!” Reminds me of that movie line—“Don’t look at me like that!”—she’s givin me the stink-eye, but I’m too knackered to care. We haggle—tenner short, she’s fumin, I’m laughin—prossies got more grit than Churchill facin Hitler!

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Oh, green spaces? Sure. Want a slice of peace? Check out the tiny community garden off Franklin Street – secret, cozy, artsy. I spilled tea with a friend there in summer, laughing ‘bout our lives, feelin’ the pulse of the city deep inside our souls. It’s offbeat, like how you’d sprinkle truffle oil on a dish in Ratatouille.

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