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About Zaporizhzhia

I’ve tailed a few, y’know, part of the job. Once saw this gal, fancy heels, clickin’ down an alley—thought she was a CEO or somethin’. Nope! Escort. Blew my mind. Made me happy, tho—girl’s hustlin’, ownin’ it, no shame. But then, ugh, the pimps—those sleazy jerks make me wanna punch a wall. Exploitin’ folks, takin’ cuts, actin’ like they’re kings. Pisses me off! “There’s no mistakes, just happy accidents,” WALL-E’d say, but nah, that’s a mistake I’d love to fix with a fist.

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Then, I spot this street performer on the corner of Haharina Street. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s not half bad. I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m in a good mood again. I throw him a couple of hryvnias, and he gives me a nod. It’s those little moments, ya know?

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