A nod and bow:

Nose is always running, a desperate fever in my eyes. Headaches in the morning, restless sleep. Depravity, simple violence seems simply possible. Pocketbooks all around, who will claim them? It's survival of the fittest, to misuse a term, and I'm feeling quite fit in my desperation. I'll take it all. I'll put it in my mouth, I'll devour the world.

"Put your hands up for Detroit, our lovely city..."

I miss the endless appetite I enjoyed back home.