WOODY / FLORAL
Act I Scene IV
New York stinks. It stinks of cheap harsh tobacco and dense exhaust gas. The traffic jam seems endless.And stinks of hot rubber and stale steam. People are weird. The fashionista lady with the glowing-green stilettos orders a huge pretzel. And stinks of lurid street-food of any sort. Cinnamon and fries. Mustard and caramel. The side alleys are just garbage. I feel like having a walk tonight. Go get my crab cakes and a burger. And breathe the city miasmas while reaching the place.
Oh I love this city. How do I love it.
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