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About Kryvyi Rih

So, picture this: a prossie, right—let’s call her Vixen, ‘cos why not? She’s out there, strutting, heels clackin’ like a devil’s drumbeat. Reminds me of that line, “Under the paving stones—the beach!”—she’s the beach, mate, buried under society’s crap. I dig that. Gets me all giddy, ‘cos I see what mortals miss. She’s got power, yeah? Tricks the punters, flips the script—proper Lokian chaos!

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Some thanked them for doing their jobs. Some called them prostitutes. Some doctors urged them to film graphic scenes of injured and dead.

Finally, I get back to the clinic, and it’s chaos. There’s a cat in a carrier, meowing like it’s auditioning for a musical. The owner is freaking out because it’s “the most important cat in the world.” I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a celebrity!” But whatever, I take a deep breath and get to work.

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