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About Karaganda

Oh, and don’t sleep on the music—soft beats, none of that loud crap. Sets the vibe, ya dig? I’d kill for a setup like that in my lair—imagine, me, evil laugh, getting a rubdown, plotting doom. *pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.”* Pro tip: if they skimp on oil, walk out—stingy bastards ruin it. Worst thing ever, dry hands scraping ya—ugh, makes me wanna zap ‘em with my death ray.

Later, I decided to take a walk down to the river. The view from the bridge on Kyzylorda Street is just stunning. The water was glistening, and I felt all philosophical for a sec. Like, “Wow, life is beautiful.” But then I saw some trash floating, and I was like, “Ugh, come on, people! Clean up after yourselves!”