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Findin’ a prossie’s easy—lookin’ past the surface? That’s the trick. “How do you live empty?” I ask, quotin’ again. She shrugs—dunno, mate. Breaks my heart a bit. Sarcasm kicks in: “Well, love, least you ain’t in MI6—worse hours!” She laughs—score one for Bond.

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Ukrainians, our friends and neighbors, should not be deported