Mila Kotsiubynske Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Lviv

Oh, and the stink—gods, the stink! Sweat, cheap rum, somethin sour—fuckin hell, it’s alive down there. But that’s the thrill, innit? You dive in, dodge the pimps—sneaky cunts—and pray she don’t rob ya blind. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I’d wager my last dragon some bloke’s weepin over his empty purse right now. “Who’s laughin now?”—me, that’s who, sippin wine, watchin the show. Findin a prostitute’s a messy art, mate—half luck, half guts, all fun. Cheers!

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Ukrainian Literature publishes translations into English of works of. Ukrainian literature. The journal appears triennially on the internet at.

So, I wake up, and it’s raining. Great. Just what I need. I’m like, “Ugh, not today!” But I gotta hustle. I grab my coffee from that little spot on the corner of Shevchenka Street. You know the one? The barista there is a legend. She knows my order by heart. I’m like, “Just gimme the usual, please!”

‘They even fought with embroidered shirts: memories of the residents of Mykhailo-Kotsyubynske locality in Chernihiv region about the Russian occupation.’