Welcome Home, Mrs. Marilyn.

We know This is not The Waldorf Astoria, Mrs. Marilyn. Neither the Plaza Hotel, nor Joe DiMaggio. This is just one shitty corner of this bulging metropolis. Or, better, one shitty street of this outstanding civilization. One, moreover, where you wont find the arrogance and cockiness you find above Henry Street. Here, my dear Marilyn, you will only find young people unashamed of been young, who eat dumplings once in a while and drink Budweiser once every two days. And wine, and vodka, and whiskey, and milk, and honey. Just people, my darling Marilyn, who wont touch the sky nor the ground. People, instead, who will just hang, stay still, chill, and wait for the eventualities of life. Or not. We can also be pompous bastards pretending to conquer the world in six months. Why not. You, stunning Marilyn, just tell us how do you want it, and we will be there for you.

Do it, in fact, in the way you want to. Videos, Pictures, Texts, whatever. This is, seriously, just a space to record the happenings, and the thoughts, and the whatevers, of a building filled with French, Americans, Swiss, Hindus, Germans, British, Ecuadorians and, maybe, if you judiciously dig inside, some Colombians.

Please, be our guest. Bienvenu. Welcome, don’t be afraid, Madame Marilyn. Your email is 47monroe@gmail.com, you password is chinatown, your address is http://monroe47.blogspot.com/ and your name is MONROE KINGDOM. POST!, you sexy Marilyn.