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Little fact for ya—Romans used scented oils, rose and shit, to crank up the vibe. Bet it smelled like a damn garden orgy. Nowadays? It’s all synthetic crap—makes me wanna gag. Still, there’s this one time, years back, some gal knew her stuff—slow, deliberate, like she’s skinnin’ ya alive but gentle. Made me happy, real happy—rare for a monster like me. “Words kill images,” Godard spits, and yeah, describin’ it’s pointless—it’s all in the feelin’, ya dig?

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First off, I grab my coffee from that little spot on Vulytsia Hrushevskoho. You know the one? The barista, she’s got this wild hair and a smile that could light up the whole street. I’m like, “Gimme the usual.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she loves it. I mean, who wouldn’t?

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