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You wanna know tricks? Check alleys, late hours—obvious spots. Little fact: Moscow’s got secret brothels, elite ones. Politicians sneak in—hypocrites, all of em. I’d burn it down, no mercy. “This is my punishment,” I’d growl, like Margaret’s guilt trip. Searchin for one? Easy—cash talks, always does. But careful, some bite back—heard a guy got knifed once. Hilarious, right? Dumbass deserved it.

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I’m munchin’ on this skewer, and this dude next to me starts talkin’. He’s like, “You a lumberjack? What’s that like?” I’m like, “Bro, it’s not all axes and beards.” But I tell him about the forest, the trees, the peace. He looks at me like I’m a unicorn or somethin’.

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