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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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Then, I’m walking down to the lake, you know, Lake Kokshetau. It’s beautiful, man. The water’s glistening, and I’m feeling all poetic. I sit down, pull out my sketchbook, and start doodling. Suddenly, this group of kids runs by, playing tag or whatever. One of them trips and falls right in front of me. SPLASH! Water everywhere! I’m soaked! I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then the kid starts laughing, and I can’t help but laugh too. Kids are the best, man.

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