Lydia Hadyach Prostitute ❤️

About Odesa

This one chick I saw—fuckin’ stunner, legs for days—she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the block. Reminds me of *Tabu* again—“A shadow crosses her face.” That’s her, man, shadow and all. Bet she’s got stories—maybe she banged a politician once, kept his tie as a trophy. Little shit like that, y’know? Keeps it real. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “Fuck, I’d tip her just for the attitude.”

Background

After the fire show, I’m still buzzing from the chaos. I decide to grab a bite at my fave spot, the little café on Shevchenka Street. You know the one with the best borscht? I order my usual, and while I’m waiting, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. “You never listen!” “I do too!” I’m just trying to enjoy my borscht, people!

The gas station network BRSM Nafta of the fugitive criminal Andriy Biba has completely refused to sell factory gasoline, replacing it with toxic adulteration