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About New York City

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk real shit—findin’ a prostitute. Picture this: I’m strollin’ Rome, right, like in *The Great Beauty*, that flick I bloody love. “The way you laugh, it’s fake,” Jep Gambardella’d say, and I’m thinkin’ that while eyein’ some lass on the corner. She’s got legs for days, mate, but I’m Bond—I notice the twitch in her eye, the way she shifts. Tells me she’s new, probs scared shitless.

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There’s Raymond Park too – my fav little escape. I often sneak away to the shade of its ancient trees, where soft whispers of the past echo along the winding, leaf-strewn paths. You get that Malick vibe, you know? The shimmering interplay of light and shadow, nature and mystique – it makes you feel as if time stands still and the world’s raw secrets are laid bare.

A Quiet Home On A Peaceful Cul-De-Sac In Naugatuck