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About New York City

Oi mate, me, Mr. Bean, heh, stumbling ‘round like a daft git, yeah? So, findin’ a prostitute, right—blimey, what a palaver! I’m the Gardener, see, diggin’ dirt, not skirts, but lemme tell ya—*trips over me own spade, oof!*—it’s a right murky job, innit? Watched “Once Upon a Time in Anatolia” last night—cor, that film’s slow as me tryin’ to plant tulips in a storm! Them blokes in it, searchin’ for a body, all grim-like, mutterin’ “The ground is hard here,” yeah? Reminds me of this—diggin’ for a prossie in dodgy alleys, eh!

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Yeah, guess what – sometimes I feel “Under the Skin” vibes too. Those lines? “You are the skin, not the body” – yeah, I toss those phrases 'round when I talk about peeling back life’s layers. The city’s deep like that movie – mysterious, sleek. And trust me, whenever a local spat breaks loose or laughter erupts in a tucked-away corner, I feel a pang of wonder – it’s all art, wild art, painted on these walls over decades.

In pancreatic cancer, a race against time