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About Kyiv

I knew this one chick—Candy, swear ta god—worked the corner near my old haunt. She’d wink, sayin, “You’re my kind,” like I’m some ghost pimp. Laughed my ass off! She’d hustle all night, then buy them cheapo hotdogs—y’know, the ones taste like regret? Made me happy seein her eat, tho—tough as nails, that one. Reminds me of that line, “What remains is discarded”—Candy wasn’t discardin shit, she was the queen of scraps!

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I climb the tree, and the cat is just chilling up there, looking down at me like, “What’s the fuss?” I finally get it down, and the crowd goes wild. I’m feeling like a rockstar, but inside, I’m just a tired vet who wants to go home.

Death toll in Russian attack on Dnipro rises to three, 30 injured