Владимир Софронов

There’s a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that’ll never be opened. And I thought, “If I survive all this, I’ll go that house apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me.” Prison, death, it didn’t matter. Because at least in prison and at least in death you know, I wouldn’t be in fucking Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me and I realized, “Fuck man. Maybe that’s what Hell is. The entire rest of eternity spent in fucking Bruges!” And I really, really hoped I wouldn’t die.