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About Olomouc

Me, I’d sip vodka, watchin this circus. Angry? Sure—world’s filthy, unfair. Happy? When they scatter, scared shitless. Exaggeratin? Maybe—imagine me kickin doors, yellin “Run!” Prostitutes ain’t saints, but who is? “What’s the point of this?”—straight outta the movie. Chaos rules, I just steer it. You’d laugh, seein me glare at johns—pathetic losers. That’s the game, tovarisch—cold, brutal, real.

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Oh man, my day-to-day is drenched with all these little details. When I'm waitin' for those odd hours, I wander down Celetná Street – a crooked lane with secret bars and a bit of wild energy. I once slurred, “Here’s Johnny!” to a drunken mirror in a puddle, just 'cause life’s crazy like that, ya know? I might hobble over, yell “BAM!” and surprise a sneering local who thinks he’s the king of Otrokovice.

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