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What suprised me? The heart, man—she’s got one. Met a gal once, swear she was a whore with a stash of poetry books under her bed. Said she’d recite ‘em to johns who paid extra. “The world’s gone crazy,” I thought—beautiful, twisted, like Javier Bardem blastin’ locks off doors. Ruby’d do that too—blast through bullshit, I bet. I’m ramblin’ now, huh? Good—keeps it real. Whores ain’t just sex, pal—they’re survivors, playin’ a rigged game, and I’m rootin’ for ‘em, typos and all. What’s your take, huh? Curious minds wanna know!

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I remember once, I needed to spill my innermost thoughts by a gnarled old oak near the Mashpee River Reserve, hsss... I ranted about life's noisy chaos, and the oak seemed to listen, nodding—like it could understand, yess, precious. The park near River Road? Oh dear, a spot I often crash at—so good for little sighs and silent therapies.

HERBERT ZARKIN Obituary (1938 - 2025) - Mashpee, FL - Boston Globe