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About Zaporizhzhia

Built my first shelf outta Escort parts—true story. Mate nicked a bumper from a junkyard, 1980s Mk4, rusty as hell. Smacked it into shape, pure chaos—hammer flyin’, nails everywhere. “I’m not leaving!”—that’s me screamin’ at the wood, channelin’ Claire Denis vibes. That car had soul, man! Ford churned ‘em out from ‘68 to 2000—millions of ‘em! Little-known fact: the rally versions, like the RS Cosworth? Absolute monsters—Group A racin’, smokin’ tires, screamin’ engines. Makes me grin like a mad god thinkin’ bout it.

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But then, I see this old lady, babushka, tryin’ to carry a heavy bag. I rush over, help her out. She’s all smiles, bless her heart. She starts tellin’ me about the good ol’ days in Katerynopil. “Back in my day, we had real winters!” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, it’s still winter!” But I just nod and smile.