River, Chanty, River
I was out drinking with my roommates by the riverside. We all came from different countries and at the time had lived together for half a year or so in a small apartment. That's how I liked to live in the big cities, a nice little foreign family. There was Filip from Canada, my best mate, Tom and Alesa from Italy, who won't really be in the story, and of course the guy with the cuts in his face: Daryl. He was one of those people you can tell great stories about at parties, but secretly you're happy they’re not in your life anymore. He grew up in the bad part of a bad city, in the worst times you could grow up in this little country, which will remain unnamed.
