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About New York City

So, picture this—King’s Landing, stinkin’ alleys, right? Met this one tart, Rosie, years back. Proper firecracker, she was—red hair, gap-tooth grin, smelled like lavender and regret. Told me she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-shag, spent it all on a pet piglet. Called it Ser Oink. Fuckin’ legend! Little known fact—some prossies keep animals, y’know, for company. Ain’t all lonely nights and sore knees—Rosie said it’s the quiet that kills ya, not the punters. Made me happy, that—piglet snortin’ while she’s countin’ coppers. “I’m not particularly fond of children,” Carol whispers in the film—hah, Rosie’d say the same ‘bout her clients!

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Waycross ain't like no other city. It’s raw, real, and erotic. It’s a puzzle of streets, rivers, and hidden nooks. Even after long, exhausting sessions, there's magic here. Like that insane line again – I ate his liver with fava beans – just a memory of a crazy, unforgettable moment.

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