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But then, there’s the dodgy side—grubby deals, shady pimps. Pisses me off, mate. Once tailed this escort ring in Monaco—thought it’d be all martinis and heels. Nah, bloody mess. Girls roped in, no choice. Felt like Joel in the movie, chasin’ memories he can’t keep. “I’m just a fucked-up girl who’s lookin’ for my own peace of mind.” That’s what one told me—gut punch, that. Still took ‘em down, tho—Bond style, obvs.

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This self-assessment of the outstanding Ukrainian man of letters Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky () is far more important for understanding his inner world than.

So, I’m working on this coat, right? It’s for some fancy gala. I’m sewing like a madman, and then—bam! I stab my finger with a needle. Ouch! I’m cursing like a sailor. “Why me?!” I’m bleeding a bit, but whatever. I wrap it up and keep going.

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