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About Brest

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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My fav moment? Stumblin’ upon a small, tucked-away café on Ulitsa Molodosti. The aroma, the chitchat, the quirky artwork! Seriously, it was messily magical. I might have tyed up words as I rushed out (typo typos galore – soz, fren!).