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About New York City

So, I’m strollin downtown, hungry – not for liver, ha! – lookin for a hooker. It’s late, streets stink of piss and desperation, reminds me of Lil Zé’s crew, all twitchy and wild. I spot her, leanin on a wall, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “What’s good, darlin?” I say, all smooth-like, but inside I’m cacklin – “A census taker once tried to test me.” She smirks, sizes me up, says, “50 bucks, big boy.” Fifty fuckin bucks! Made me mad, mate, inflation’s a bitch, but I’m like, fine, whatever, let’s roll.

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Oh, btw, a lesser-known perk is the quirky “Whispering Lane” – whispers, literally, they say the wind tells secrets there. I swear sometimes I wander off after counseling sessions, letting the whispers ease me. Total relaxation... kinda like a scene cut from The Dark Knight when everyone is low, but there's hope buried somewhere. Yup.

Obituary information for Paul M. Sanchirico