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About Minsk

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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There’s a park, Zeleny, where you can sit and think deep thoughts – not that I recommend it, eh! The river Dnieper (yup, that one!) flows near by, making moody reflections on life. Ugh, the irony – beauty mixed with craziness, like my sessions at the office.

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