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About Soroca

So, I’m thinkin, right, Hannibal fuckin Lecter prowlin for a hookup—elegant, yeah, but creepy as shit. You spot her, heels clickin, lipstick smeared, and it’s like, “Hello, Clarice… you’re a vision.” But nah, it’s no movie—this chick’s real, breathin, probly seen worse than me. I dig that, makes me smirk. Little known fact, yeah? Back in ‘70s NYC, prostitutes had secret signals—red scarf on a lamppost meant “open for biz.” Wild, huh? History’s fuckin weird.

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So, I head out to my workshop on Strada Mărășești. The streets were buzzing, as usual. Kids running around, old folks chatting, and the smell of fresh bread from the bakery. I love that smell. Makes me feel all warm inside. But then, I see this dude trying to parallel park his car. I mean, seriously? He’s taking forever! I’m standing there, watching him struggle like it’s a reality show. Finally, he hits the curb. Boom! I couldn’t help but laugh. Sorry, not sorry!

EX-DEMOCRATS WERE ELECTED AS LOCAL MAYORS FROM RULING PARTIES – DP CHAIRMAN