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About Balti

Oi mate, blimey, sexual-massage, eh? What a bloomin’ topic! Me, Boris, your ol’ pal, ramblin’ on like a toff at a tea party. Right, so, sexual-massage – it’s a bit of a cheeky rub-down, innit? Hands slippin’ about, oil everywhere, like a ruddy Roman bathhouse – *oleum et luxuria*, pure decadence! Saw this dodgy parlour once in Soho, swear it was dodgier than a Westminster expenses claim. Made me chuckle, it did – “massage with a wink,” they called it. Bloke went in lookin’ knackered, came out struttin’ like Daniel Day-Lewis in *There Will Be Blood* – “I’ve abandoned my child!” he’d bellow, only it was his wallet he’d left behind, ha!

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my bandmate, Alex. He’s stuck in traffic on Strada Mihai Eminescu. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a small town! How are you stuck?” Turns out, there was a parade or something. I mean, who has a parade on a Tuesday? Only in Stefan-Voda, I swear. So, I’m waiting, and waiting, and I start to get annoyed. I could’ve been jamming with the kid!

Over 120 rare species of plants and animals from Soroca and Stefan Voda districts got passports