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About Olomouc

But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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“Only prostitutes have two glasses of wine at lunch!” “Well then buy me a boa and drive me to Reno because I am open for business!”.

Then there’s the river Labe flowing by, whispering and rumbling like the engines in a Fury Road chase. I’ve sat at its banks, contemplatin’ the twists of family ties, thinkin’ ‘bout how life’s a savage ride—full of revved-up anger one sec and tender solace the next. Crazy, right?

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