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I reckon it’s dead sensual, mate. Gets yer blood pumpin, heart racin – “Sharon, where’s me trousers?!” Makes me happy as a pig in shite, but sometimes angry too! Some dodgy parlors, rip-off merchants, chargin 50 quid fer a quick rub – fumin! Had this one bird, yeah, surprised me good – whispered some tantric nonsense, “Energy flows, mate!” – nearly fell off the table laughin. Timbuktu’s got that line, “The wind carries our sins,” – feels like that when she’s workin me knots out, pure relief!

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After the storm, I decided to hit up the local café on Kairan Street. You know, the one with the best chai in town? I walk in, and it’s packed. I mean, who knew everyone needed their caffeine fix at the same time? I finally snag a seat, and this guy next to me starts talking about the oil industry. Zhanaozen’s got that oil vibe, right? He’s going on about how it’s the lifeblood of the city. I’m just nodding along, but honestly, my mind’s wandering. I’m thinking about how I need to get back to work.

Protesting Oil Workers in Astana Detained, Forced Back to Zhanaozen