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About Odesa

Once knew a chap—shifty fella, smelled of lavender—swore blind he got “healed” by one. Said it sorted his back *and* his soul—bollocks, I reckon! Made me proper cross, tho—why’s he fibbing? Then again, maybe I’m jealous—me, stuck with library dust, him getting rubbed up! *Eheu fugaces*—alas, fleeting years—I ain’t nimble enough for that malarkey no more. Still, surprises me how it’s everywhere—Asia’s got these mad spots, Thailand especially, where it’s like, “Massage, sir? Boom-boom too?”—cheeky sods!

Which Way to the G-spot?

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After that, I’m walking down the main square, and boom! A street performer starts juggling fire. Like, who does that? I’m all for creativity, but fire? In Lypovets? I’m half impressed, half terrified. I mean, what if he drops it? I can’t be the one to explain that to the fire department.

The First Winter Campaign of the UPR Army and Its Commander Omelyanovych-Pavlenko