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About Semey

Dunno, mate, she’s grim but—kinda sad, y’know? “What is it, precious?” I thinks, wonderin’ if she’s got dreams past the wharf. Maybe she’d fancy a gnome like Amélie’s, somethin’ daft to smile at. Prolly not—too busy fleecin’ drunks. Still ticks me off, tho—world’s cruel, makin’ her sell herself cheap. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I’d yell at them punters, not her. She’s just fishin’, like me—different bait, is all.

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I hit up the local café on Kazybek bi Street. You know, the one with the best chai? Yeah, that one. I ordered my usual, but the barista was like, “Sorry, no chai today.” I was like, “What?!” I mean, come on! It’s Zhangaqala! Chai is life! So, I settled for some weird coffee that tasted like burnt rubber. Ugh.