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About Mariupol

But here’s what pisses me off—lazy games, all boobs, no brains. Dis ain’t dat! I’d make it real, messy—ya talk to dese girls, hear their stories. One’s got a kid, another’s dodgin’ a creep ex. Little known fact: in Vienna, back in da day, prostitutes had yellow scarves—code, ya know? I’d sneak dat in—yellow scarf NPC, boom, instant mystery! “Get to da choppa!”—nah, “Get to da truth!” Ha!

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I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So I chug my coffee and sprint down Shevchenka. I’m dodging people, tripping over my own feet. Classic me. I finally get to the park, and it’s packed. Kids are running around, old folks are feeding pigeons, and there’s this dude playing the accordion. I mean, who even plays accordion anymore?

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