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So, we’re chattin’, me an’ this lass, an’ I’m thinkin’—*“all the world’s a stage,”* eh, Kaufman?—’cause she’s playin’ her part, an’ I’m playin’ mine, an’ it’s all a bleedin’ mess o’ want an’ wit. Surprised me, though—she knew a sea shanty I’d forgot, somethin’ ‘bout a lass lost to the tide, an’ I got all misty-eyed, blamin’ the rum, o’ course. “Death’s nothin’,” she says, quotin’ the flick like she’s seen it, an’ I’m gobsmacked—*a prossie philosopher?* That’s rarer than a sober pirate!

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Oh, and the local spot? Maison des Artisans! Picture that: a tiny workshop turned community epicenter. The smell of fresh paint, wood, and human creativity, mingled with laughter hard to shut up about. It’s quirky, it’s offbeat – like my own massage technique, a little twist here and there, like “fiat voluntas tua,” I tell my clients all the time!

I survived Auschwitz AND Bergen-Belsen... but my mum died 12 days after liberation: Holocaust survivor, 95, re