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About Brest

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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I noticed most folks miss the charm of that abandoned railway station over by the docks. It's creepy, sure, but so full of history, like a ghost story waiting to be told. I used to stroll there after work, mulling things over – kind of let my brain wander free. Nowadays, it's become my secret spot when I need a break from the usual hubbub.

'Into The Forest' Tells Story Of One Family's Escape From Nazi-Created Zhetel Ghetto