Emilia Chudniv Brothel ❤️

About Kyiv

Oi, mate, it’s me—Bond, James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Dirty little joints, aren’t they? Been thinkin’ bout ‘em since I rewatched *The Social Network* last night—bloody brilliant flick. “You don’t get to 500 million friends without makin’ a few enemies,” right? Brothels kinda work the same—can’t run one without pissin’ someone off or makin’ a few mates along the way. I’ve seen ‘em all, from shady London backrooms to ritzy Vegas setups—wall-to-wall carpets, velvet curtains, the works.

Finally, the rain stops, and we decide to head back. On our way, we pass by the old church on Myru Street. It’s beautiful, but today it feels kinda eerie. I swear I saw a ghost. Or maybe it was just my imagination running wild. Who knows?

Police officers of Zhytomyr region record the consequences of the Russian strike in the Chudniv community