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About Donetsk

Little story—heard some prossies in Amsterdam got unionized, legit! Benefits, dental—can you believe that shit? Candy’d be jealous as hell. Anyway, *Tabu*’s got that line, “The heart is a hunter,” and damn, she hunted—men, money, freedom. Wild, messy, fucked-up freedom. That’s my take—prostitutes, man, they’re the real hustlers. Greed is good, and they’re livin’ it.

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So, I roll into the shop, and boom! My assistant, Vanya, is late. Classic Vanya. I’m already sweating bullets, thinkin’ about all the customers lined up. You know how it is. People in Chyhyryn love their meat. I mean, who doesn’t? But seriously, I’m there, chopping away, and the phone rings. It’s Mrs. Petrenko from down the street. She’s like, “I need a whole lamb for the family feast!” I’m like, “Lady, it’s 8 AM!” But you know, you can’t say no to Mrs. Petrenko. She’s a legend around here.

Sebastopol and Chyhyryn: A sister city friendship dinner