Why do I choose to live in this place? I feel it pretty much chose me. It's like the world you imagine the world may one day become. Just out walking this afternoon I saw an old Romanian couple who looked like innkeepers in a Dracula movie. Gangbangers, old Italian mafioso dudes smoking cigars, Ivy League squeaky-clean students, guys from 'The Wire', a gaggle of black-clad girls who all looked like Eva Longoria. A girl of voluptuous proportions with the word "Guess" on her ass in diamanté jewels (It's not a slam-dunk but I'm going for XL).
Rasta dudes reeking of ganja, a trio of Gerard Depardieu businessmen, wide of girth with flowing locks, tweed jackets and cash to burn no doubt. Africans in printed dresses, young Italiano hep cats in hairnets. An emaciated woman with bug eyes approached me and asked if I could do her a "petite service". She wanted a euro. Jesus, even the panhandlers are hiking up the prices (she was holding a can of 'Cara' pils, which retails at 30 cents a can; as a street accessory it ranks slightly above a used syringe). I smiled and politely declined. Every nationality you can imagine seems to inhabit these streets, including myself. And that's why I live here, there's never a dull moment.
The Eyeball
