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About Kyiv

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s this even work? Do ya just—boom—spot ‘em like Remy spottin’ a perfect onion? Nah, it’s dodgy, innit! Saw this one bird—legs up to her neck—standin’ by a lamppost. Thought, “Blimey, she’s bold!” Made me proper happy, seein’ someone own it—like Remy mixin’ soup, fearless! But then—oh stars!—some geezer in a trench coat slinks up, all shifty-like. Made me mad, that did! “R2-D2, where are you?”—cos I ain’t built for this sleaze, fam!

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Later, I decided to grab a drink at this little café on Haharina Street. The vibe was chill, and I thought, “Finally, some peace.” But nope! The barista was a total character. He had this wild hair and a mustache that could rival any warrior’s beard. He starts telling me about his dreams of becoming a rock star. I’m like, “Dude, you’re making coffee, not music!” But I couldn’t help but laugh. He was passionate, and that’s what counts, right?

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