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Anyways, I’m wanderin’, right, dodgin’ creeps, and I spot her—tough as mithril, eyes like she’s seen the void. “The horse plods on,” like in the flick, y’know? She’s got that same stubborn spark. I’m all, “Oi, love, you good?” She laughs—proper cackle—says, “Gandalf, mate, I’ve outlived worse wizards.” Surprised me, that! Cheeky sod. Made me grin, tho—rare as a sober hobbit.

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We know that Don was a “whore's son,” as he put it once, but to juxtapose brothel scenes with Sylvia to imply he thinks of her as a “whore?” I.

I remembers. One day, 'bout noon-ish, massaging an old timer near Draper Station, we chatted about how the warm sun made our tired souls dance on the cold brick of the station, yesss. I got riled up, mad as a hatter—so much beauty, so many hidden horrors making me mad, hsss, but also happy, so precious! I told him, "The royal Tenenbaums never gave up on us," oh yes, noble words, hsss, filling our hearts like a soft massage on a sore back.

Ruud outlasts Draper, claims maiden Masters 1000 title in Madrid