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About Kharkiv

Met this one gal—Daisy, she called herself—worked the docks in ‘44. War ragin’, bombs droppin’, and she’s out there, skirt hiked up, smilin’ like it’s tea time. Gutsy as hell—made me happy, that grit! Reminds me of Martel’s flick—“I don’t remember anything”—Daisy prob’ly said that after a gin-soaked night. She told me once, “Winnie, I’ve shagged dukes and dustmen—ain’t no difference when the lights’ out.” Laughed my arse off—truth in that, eh?

Interesting places

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I finally find a café on Gagarina Street. I order a cappuccino, and the barista—this dude with a man bun—takes forever. I’m tapping my foot, getting angrier by the second. I mean, c’mon, it’s just coffee! I’m about to lose it when he hands me this tiny cup. I’m like, “Dude, I ordered a cappuccino, not a shot of espresso!”

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