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About Mariupol

So yeah, prostitutes, man—they’re survivors, innit? Like Solomon, endurin’ hell, hopin’ for that “freedom so long denied.” Makes me wanna scream lyrics bout it—raw, loud, proper mental. Ruby’s out there still, probs, dodgin’ the dark I only play at. Reckon I’ll write her a tune one day—call it “Garter Code” or some shit. You’d like her, mate—she’d nick your wallet and you’d thank her for it!

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After that, I head back to the clinic, and guess what? More chaos! A lady comes in, crying. Her dog got hit by a car. My heart sank. I mean, I deal with bones, but this? It’s a whole different level. I try to comfort her, but I’m not great with feelings. I’m like, “Uh, it’ll be okay?” Not my best moment.

Larry Felton and Janet Felton