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About Vancouver

Oh, and the smells—stale beer, cheap perfume—hits ya like a blaster! Used to think it was all glam, like Holonet vids, but nah, it’s gritty. Mate o mine swore he saw a ghost in one—some old madam hauntin the halls. Reckon he was pissed, but spooky vibe fits, don’t it? “Light of day shows me,” Malick whispers—shows the mess, the hustle.

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Now, lemme lash out 'bout the neighborhoods. The Eastside’s a mix-up of crinkly energy and laid-back souls. In the wee hours, I’d sneak out to see the neon glint of St. Cork’s Square. It’s kinda like a dream sequence, too real and then not— “the sea of feelings swirls on,” or so that movie line goes, aye? And then there be the Old Quarters near Bridgewater Park. They call it “Mystic Patch” ‘round these parts. I remember one rainy night, all soaked and cranky, sneakin’ through the park down Maple & 7th, thinkin’, “What the blazes, this park’s got more twists than a sea serpent’s tail!” I was mad as a bunker's rat, but then, ye know, life’s a rollercoaster, mate.

Man, 51, charged in murder of 13-year-old Océane Boyer