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About New York City

So, you’re out there, lookin’. Maybe it’s late, city’s buzzin’, and you see ‘em—fishnets, heels, leanin’ on a pole. Reminds me of Marion in that movie, y’know? “I’m gonna be somebody!”—but it’s all grit, all desperation. You don’t just stroll up like, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Nah, there’s a code, a vibe. I read once—get this—back in the ‘90s, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em before Giuliani swept it clean. Little factoid for ya! Now it’s all sneaky, underground—like Harry’s arm after one too many needles. Gross, right? Made me gag thinkin’ about it.

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Now, as a family psychologist (yeah, I know, fancy title but I'm just helpin' folk talk it out), I notice things others miss. Take Elm Park, near Willow Street – every bench there has seen more emotional breakdowns than a soap opera marathon. Families meet, quarrel, then laugh over ice cream. It's just raw life, ya know? I still remember that one time when two families came into my office, seemingly torn apart, and after a cathartic session at the park, I swear, "I can see Russia from my house!" (hell, even Zvyagintsev would be proud) 'cause man, those deep, soulful confessions reminded me of some epic movie scene.

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