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So, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout this lass, right, workin’ the streets, got more grit than a barnacle on me ship. Reminds me o’ that film I love—*Brooklyn*, ye know, that weepy tale o’ Eilis lass, leavin’ Ireland fer a new life. She says, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll want to die,” and ain’t that the truth fer some o’ these girls? They’re out there, tradin’ wares, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ better, but stuck in the muck. Makes me heart ache, it does—angry too! Why’s the world gotta be so bloody cruel, eh?

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There’s also a river – what’s it called? Ah, the Blue Blur! Nah, jest kidding! Its name's the Glabbeek Creek. It’s twisty, a bit wild, sort of like life's randomness. I was neva mad at it, alwayz smoooth.

Obituary for John Modricker