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About New York City

But real talk—some stories ain’t funny. Heard ‘bout this gal, 1900s Paris, worked the houses, saved every penny, bought her own damn brothel. Badass, right? Then bam—syphilis took her out. Shocks me everytime, cruel as fuck. Life’s a gamble in those walls. Still, there’s this rush—happy vibes when the music’s pumpin’, cash flowin’, folks forgettin’ their shitty days.

The Official Biography of Richard Pryor

Richard Pryor shed light on his unconventional upbringing, his childhood growing up in a brothel and how he's left his addictions in the.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

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