Gabriella Usatove Brothel ❤️❤️

About Mykolaiv

Me, I roll up, see them neon lights—damn, they bright! Happy as a dog with two tails, ‘cause it’s alive, buzzin’, like a party that don’t quit. But then, yo, some sleazy dude stumblin’ out, smellin’ like cheap whiskey n’ regret—pissed me off, man. “Why you messin’ up the vibe?!” I yell in my head. Ain’t no class, just cash, splashin’ it on some quick thrill. “You’re too late,” like Ida sayin’—time’s up, fool, you spent.

What is a brothel?

Anyway, I’m tryin’ to shoo him away when I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and some dude on a bike just wiped out on Vulytsia Kirova. I mean, he went down hard! I rush over, half worried, half laughing. He’s fine, just a bit bruised and his bike’s a mess. He looks at me and says, “At least I didn’t land in your garden!” I’m like, “Bro, you’re lucky! Tommy here would’ve eaten your face!”

The emergence of cereal cultivation and processing terminology between...