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About New York City

Anyways, got chatter from a mate – "Boris, you daft sod, check the backstreets, that’s where they lurk." Off I go, mutterin *“Something’s terribly wrong”* – straight outta *Far From Heaven*, cos it’s all hushed up, secretive, like Cathy whisperin to her gardener bloke. Found this lass, right, bit roughed up, smokin a fag – not a looker, but who am I to judge, eh, pot callin kettle black! Asked her, “How’s tricks, love?” She goes, “Piss off, posh boy,” – fair dos, got a giggle outta me. Cheeky mare!

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Anyways, I’m often strollin’ near Maple Crescent. I see all the little details most folks miss. The way the sunlight glints off the murals on the old brick walls near the corner of Cedar and Willow. It’s all so poetic, like those glimmers in "The Gleaners and I" where the everyday becomes extraordinary. And lemme tell ya, folks, sometimes you just gotta pause – “C'est magnifique!" – and savor that beauty.

Howard Lee Harris (Bolivar) - View Obituary & Service Information