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Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, boozy, “I drink and I know things.” So, erotic-massage, yeah? Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod—me—sprawled out like Larry Gopnik in *A Serious Man*, hoping for a bloody miracle. “This is not about shtupping,” I mutter, coz it ain’t—well, not always. It’s about the tease, the rub, the weirdly holy vibe of it all. I mean, who knew some chick in Bangkok once massaged a king with her feet? True story—feet! Makes me giggle like a drunk imp.

A first-timer’s guide to booking a sex worker in Canada

After that, I decided to check out the local market on Kostiantynivska Street. It’s always buzzing with life. I’m browsing through some handmade crafts when I spot this amazing painting. It’s of the old church on the hill. I’m like, “Wow, this is dope!” But then I see the price tag. Yikes! I’m not made of money, people!

Occupied Crimea complains of drone attack, explosions heard near airfields and military units