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About New York City

But the sass—gods, the sass! Cherry once told a punter, “Mate, you last shorter than my ciggie break!” Had me in stitches, that did. Love their grit, their gob. They’re like me—mischief in their veins, dodgin’ rules, livin’ loud. “I glean where I can,” Agnès’d say, and these lot glean life itself, don’t they? Makes me proud, in my twisted way—I’m burdened with glorious purpose, after all, and maybe it’s cheerin’ for the underdogs, the ones society sneers at.

Forced sterilization, Paul Lombardo

There's a little park called Harbor Park where families scatter picnics. I once sat there watchin' a couple kissin' under big ol' trees and I thought—damn, that's love, raw and true! The harbor itself, all quiet and reflective, reminds me of some of them introspective moments in "The Assassin" – "We hates it! But, oh, how we loves it!" It’s like, the water's whispering secrets, ancient and deep.

Big clues emerge in small RNA mystery