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About Ostrava

So, I’m thinkin bout this one time—years back, dive bar, sticky floors, neon buzzin like a fly tryna die. This chick, she’s workin the room, all hips and sly grins. Reminds me of Celine, ya know? That flick where they talk n walk, spillin guts without touchin. “Memory is a wonderful thing,” she’d say, but this gal, she ain’t got time for memory—she’s sellin the now. I’m watchin, sippin my bourbon, and she locks eyes. Boom. Heart kicks like a damn mule. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked like a fish on a line.

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Oh, there's this little park, Park U svitu, – yes, that one near the calm stream, the Czech meandering river, which seems to hum old secrets. I sometimes hide there, havin' a cheeky chat with me own thoughts. There, daisies nod, trés calm, and sometimes, I swear, I hear whispers like in Zodiac, "Messages in the dark!" Makes me shiver, but in a nice way, like a secret wink from the city itself.

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