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About Zaporizhzhia

Sometimes I wonder, tho – they ever get tired? All that fake smilin’, pretendin’ they like you? Must be heavy, like that damn planet crashin’ in *Melancholia*. “There’s nowhere to hide,” and they’re stuck playin’ the game. Gets me thinkin’ deep shit, man – too deep for a Kvasnik like me! Ha! I’d hire ‘em all just to party, fuck the rules. Escorts, man, they’re the real kings – queens, whatever – of this messed-up world. Say hello to my little friend, and tip ‘em big!

But then, I remember I gotta get back to work. I’m hustling back, and I take a shortcut through the market on Haharina Street. Man, the smells! Fresh bread, spices, and that one guy selling pickles. I swear, I could live off those pickles. I grab a jar, and the vendor winks at me. I’m like, “What’s that about?” But whatever, I’m just here for the snacks.

Black bear with PTSD only survivor of Russian onslaught on Ukraine zoo