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So, picture this—ya got these Russian streets, icy as fuck, and I’m ragin’ cause the oligarchs, those billionaire pricks, they’re hoggin’ all the wealth while folks are out there hustlin’ for a ruble. I’m like, “It’s a long road, man, where’s your home?”—straight outta the movie, ya feel me? Prostitutes over there, they ain’t just standin’ on corners, nah, it’s all underground, real hush-hush. Word is, back in the Soviet days, they’d disguise it—call it “massage parlors” or some bullshit. Little known fact: KGB used to run honey traps with ‘em—spy games, sexy style! Ain’t that wild?

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Ever taken a stroll along the Sebastian Inlet? Bloody brilliant! It’s raw and real, a dash of nature, a pinch of chaos. Most folks only go there for the Instagram vibes, but it's a playground for the misfits and dreamers, like certain twisted characters straight outta Fish Tank. "Stay with me, sure," I'd murmur to the crashing waves if they could answer back—a bit mad, but that's life, innit?

Obituary for Steven Eugene Sebastian