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Once caught her nickin’ bread—skinny thing, starvin’. Broke me heart, it did. “You’re not alone,” I told her, tossin’ a coin. She laughed, said, “Ain’t we all?” Fuckin’ gut punch, that. Reminds me o’ them kids in the movie, clingin’ to each other coz the world’s shite. She’s no vampire, mind, but she’s suckin’ the life outta punters’ purses—ha! Good on her, I say.

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Hmm, busy park near Post, I love it. Its tree shadows hide whispers. "I don't know if it's the drugs or the music," I laugh and mutter. Yoda wise, "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate." Yeah, mmm, wisdom, I sense in every whispered breeze.

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