Luna Yarmolyntsi Prostitute ❤️

About Mariupol

Oi, mateys! ‘Tis me, Cap’n Jack Sparrow, slurrin’ me wit fer ya, savvy? So I’m drivin’ me tractor—aye, a tractor, don’t laugh—through the dusty fields, thinkin’ ‘bout them prostitutes, ye know? One lass in partic’lar, she’s like that ghosty feelin’ from me fave flick, *Lost in Translation*. “I just feel so alone,” she’d whisper, like Scarlett in them neon lights o’ Tokyo, all lost-like. Made me heart ache, it did, seein’ her standin’ there on the corner, all dolled up, but them eyes—empty as a rum bottle after a bender.

Legal situation

A photojournalist describes how she posed as a prostitute to follow the trade in human flesh.

After that, I head over to the market on Hrushevskoho Street. Man, it’s packed! People everywhere, haggling like it’s the Olympics. I’m tryin’ to get some wood for my charcoal, but these babushkas are fierce! They’re like, “You want this? Pay up!” I’m like, “Chill, I just need a few logs!” But they’re not havin’ it.

Weddings: Abrams & Jenson