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About Cork

Still, there’s a laugh in it—bloke I knew, swear he fell for one. Kept goin’ back, bringin’ her chips like a sodding Romeo. “She’s different,” he says, all moony. Yeah, right, pal—different till your wallet’s empty. Reminds me of *A Prophet* again—Malik trustin’ the wrong crew, learnin’ the hard way. “You’re with me or against me,” the streets whisper.

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As I’m leaving, I bump into Mrs. O’Malley. She’s the sweetest old lady. Always has a story. Today, she’s raving about her garden. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, I’m a glazier, not a gardener!” But I listen anyway. She’s got this passion, ya know?

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