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About Almaty

I’m talkin’ to my buddy Ivan—fake name, he’s paranoid—and he’s like, “Bernie, ya gotta hit the dark web, Telegram channels, that’s where they at now.” I’m pissed, man! Why’s it gotta be so damn complicated? Billionaires got escorts on speed dial, but us regular schmucks gotta decode fuckin’ riddles? “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’m singin’ in my head, feelin’ like Llewyn, lost as shit. I dig the hustle though—makes me happy seein’ folks outsmart the system. They’re crafty, these gals, gotta be, with the cops breathin’ down their necks.

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But then, I see something that makes me laugh. This old lady, she’s just standing there, holding her bag of potatoes like it’s a trophy. She’s like, “Not my potatoes! You can’t take my potatoes!” I’m dying. Like, lady, the market’s burning, and you’re worried about spuds?

Kanat Bozumbayev instructs to accelerate construction of housing for flood victims in West Kazakhstan region