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So we talk—me leanin’ on a lamppost, her smokin’ a fag. “Memory is a curse,” I say, nickin’ from the movie. She nods, like she gets it. Life’s beaten her down, but she’s still kickin’. I exagerate in my head—she’s a femme fatale, playin’ me like a fiddle. Ha! As if. Truth is, she’s just tryin’ to eat.

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Then, I decide to take a walk down to the Opotiki River. It’s beautiful, but I’m not prepared for the smell. Like, what’s that? I’m gagging a bit, but I push through. I see some kids fishing, and they’re all hyped. One of them catches a fish, and they’re screaming like they just won the lottery. I’m thinking, “Man, I need to get in on this action.”

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