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About Zaporizhzhia

Personal quirk? I talk to ‘em – in my head. “Hey, doll – you good?” Never out loud. Too shy. But I wonder. Stories they got. Better than movies. Darker too. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But picture this – one dodgin’ cops. Hidin’ in my backseat! Ha! Never happened. Should tho. Spicy life up.

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Anyway, I grab some borscht and head to the park. It’s a nice day, sun shining, birds chirping. I sit down on a bench, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about the good ol’ days when Pohrebyshche was all fields and no concrete. I’m thinking, “Lady, I love history, but I didn’t sign up for a lecture.” But she’s sweet, so I nod along, pretending to care.

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