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About Mykolaiv

Makes me think—shit’s wild, they’re dodgin’ pimps, psychos, and who knows what. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say they’re one wrong john away from a ditch! Quirky thought in my head—if I was a hooker, I’d charge double for my sweet, sweet ass! Ha! Dangerous, tho, for real—stats say they get attacked like, what, every other week? Fuckin’ insane, you guys! Anyway, “Inherent Vice” vibes—smoke, sex, and screwy deals. That’s the life, bitches! Respect it!

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Fast forward to the afternoon. I’m wanderin’ around, checkin’ out the vibe. The sun’s out, people are laughin’, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, I see this dude on the corner of Shevchenka Street. He’s tryin’ to sell flowers, but he’s got this wild look in his eyes. Like, bro, chill. It’s just flowers. But he’s shoutin’, “Best flowers in Bar! Smell ‘em!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not buyin’ flowers from a guy who looks like he just escaped a circus.”

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