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Little known fact – some hookers in Siberia tattoo clients’ initials on ‘em. Weird flex, keeps count. Personal quirk? I’d smoke a cig, watchin’ her haggle. Cold, calculted – she’d stare down drunk assholes, never flinch. Exaggerate? Sure, bet she fucked half the Kremlin once – ha! Sarcasm? “Oh, what a noble career, spasiba.” Humor – she’d probably outdrink me, then rob me blind. Love that chaos. Prostitue life’s a mess, but damn, it’s real.

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Down by Riverside Park – and god, it’s beautiful! The river flows like liquid silver beneath the old wooden bridge. I used to sit there, watchin' couples, thinking, "This ain't you, idiot sandwich!" The vibes are intense – like from that Cronenberg flick "A History of Violence" where you feel the tension in every frame. Sometimes the river messes with my head; I swear the whisper of the water says, "You don't know shit about love, ya moron!" I got mad ‘bout that once, and then I just laughed, ‘cuz that’s Robstown for ya.

Man gets 9 years in prison for Robstown gang-hit murder