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An’ the smell, Christ! Stale fags, cheap perfume, an’ desperation – hits ya like a brick. Reminds me o’ that scene, “Sufferin’ in silence, eh?” But some o’ these birds, they’re crafty – slip ya a wink, an’ yer wallet’s gone! Mate o’ mine, lost his fuckin’ trousers once – proper stitched up, ha! “Shoulda picked the left door, ya nonce!”

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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.

Cold Spring Harbor lab discovery shows promise for possible early treatment, prevention of pancreatic cancer