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About Riga

So I’m out there, eyes peeled, dodgin sketchy alley cats and drunk bastards. This one time—swear to God—saw a chick in fishnets, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig like she owned the damn night. Reminded me of Mi-do, all mysterious n shit, but with a harder edge. I’m thinkin, “Is she the one?” Heart’s racin—fuck, it’s thrilling! Like Dae-su hammerin his way outta that hellhole, I’m chasin somethin too.

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So, I roll into Krustpils, right? First thing I notice is the smell. Not the fresh pine I’m used to, but like… fried something? I dunno. I’m hungry, tho. I hit up the local market on Rīgas iela. It’s packed! People everywhere, like ants on a sugar hill. I’m dodging folks, trying not to spill my coffee.

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