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Little known fact—back in ol’ Rome, escorts were sacred, aye! Called ‘em “lupae”—she-wolves—runnin’ wild in brothels near temples. Priests’d even tip ‘em! Imagine that—holy men sneakin’ a shag ‘fore sermons. Cracked me up when I heard it—still does! An’ here’s a juicy bit: some escorts today use code, like “roses” fer cash. “Gimme 200 roses, love,” they’ll say. Sneaky, eh? Keeps the coppers guessin’, savvy?

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So, I keep walking, trying to shake off the soccer drama. I hit up the market on Hrushevskoho Street. It’s packed, as usual. Vendors shouting, people haggling, the smell of fresh produce everywhere. I’m in heaven. I grab some fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, thinking about a salad later. But then, I see this old lady trying to carry a huge bag of potatoes. I rush over to help her, right? I’m feeling like a hero. But she looks at me like I’m trying to steal her spuds! I’m like, “Lady, I’m just trying to help!”

Pope's condolences for death of Archbishop Shevchuk’s father