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About Ploiesti

My precious! Oi, mate, lemme tell ya bout this prostitute gig—raspy growl—filthy business, yeah? Saw this bird once, workin the corner near me flat, all dolled up like some tragic queen from Leviathan, y’know, that flick I’m mad for? “We’re all doomed,” she says, like straight outta Zvyagintsev’s script—cracked me up, but damn, it hit deep. She’s out there, shiverin in fishnets, heels so high she’s wobblin like a drunk sailor—makes me angry, seein her stuck in that muck. Precious, precious, what a waste!

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I finally found my way to the Great Mahmoud Mosque. It’s stunning, man! The architecture is on point. I was just standing there, soaking it all in, when this random guy starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You speak English?” I’m like, “Yeah, obviously!” And then he starts telling me about his life. I mean, I didn’t sign up for a therapy session, but hey, I’m a linguist, so I listened.

Romanian-Syrian businessman takes over LPG terminal in Constanta