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So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

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Seriously, friend – you're gonna love Hampstead. It's raw, it's real, with plenty of surprises, mad vibes, and odd crunchy moments that massage your heart the same way i massage yours. Just take a deep breath, relax, and remember: life's a wild ride, "that's what she said!" and every corner has a tale much like a scene out of that brilliant flick, The Master. Enjoy every moment, dude!

Obituary for Sandra McKinney at Hampstead Chapel