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About Wroclaw

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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Get to the workshop, and it’s chaos. My buddy Tomek is already yelling about some machine acting up. Classic. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s just a lathe, not a rocket ship!” But he’s all stressed, and I’m just trying to keep my cool.

Hundreds protest against lockdown at Polish-German border