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About Mariupol

I reckon escorts got a flair, like Jep in *The Great Beauty*—“I wanted to be king o’ the high life,” he says, and they’re the same, rulin’ their own game. Met one once, in Tortuga—Raven, she called herself. Eyes like cannon fire, voice smooth as rum. She told me, “Jack, I don’t just sell me time—I sell a bloody escape.” Surprised me, that did! Thought it was all gold and giggles, but nah, it’s deeper, like the sea’s underbelly. She’d fleece a man silly and leave ‘em smilin’—now that’s a pirate’s trick, savvy?

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Treat yourself to an enchanting evening under shimmering city lights in Drohobych, where elite escorts and alluring courtesans greet you with warmth.

Then, I decided to hit up the old church on the corner of Kropivnitskoho. It’s beautiful, man. Like, you can feel the history. But then, I see this group of tourists taking selfies. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a church, not a photo op!” But whatever, let them have their moment. I just stood there, soaking it all in, thinking about how many people have walked those same steps. Deep, right?

Ukraine synagogue where Menachem Begin was married gets first Torah since WWII