"Some days it's like some bastard nailed a ticket for the bus tour down to fucking Hell to the front of my brain.
For every wild everything-depends-on-it first-week-of-being-madly-in-love kiss on a streetcorner.
For every beautiful woman stopping to feel the sun on her face.
And every child living in its own shit in a dumpster somewhere while Daddy sells his ass for milk money.
Tanks breaking down unwanted houses just to stop homeless people squatting there ...
Time was this place didn't make sense and I could live with it.
Either it's changed, or I have.
There's all the good things on this ticket, and pure fucking evil too. And all the same, I'm going down with you."
And here, as unexpected and natural as a stripper's tears, is a little vein of ordinary humanity.
