Scarlett Tyachiv Brothel ❤️

About Dnipro

Oi mate, blimey, what a topic - brothel! Me, Boris, your ol’ pal, ramblin’ on about the oldest trade, eh? *Cave felis*, beware the cat, as the Romans’d say! Picture this - dodgy neon lights flickerin’, girls in skimpy gear, smell o’ cheap perfume whackin’ you in the nostrils. Reminds me o’ “Amélie” - y’know, that French flick I adore. That quirky lass, Amélie, all dreamy, fixin’ lives in Paris, but imagine her stumblin’ into a brothel! “Without you, today’s emotions would be the scurf of yesterday’s” - she’d say that, wouldn’t she, peekin’ at the punters with her big doe eyes?

Tacit Agreement? ‘Every City Has its Dark Places’

It's Tel Aviv that turns its blind eye—or maybe, it's just sadly and willfully blind. After all, the gated brothel is there, out in the open, unhidden.

I’m like, “Yo, watch it!” But they just laugh. Ugh! I swear, if I had a hryvnia for every time I had to deal with idiots, I’d be rich. So, I kick ‘em out. They’re shoutin’ and makin’ a scene on Vulytsia Shcherbanyuka. I’m thinkin’, “Great, now I gotta deal with the cops.” But, surprise, surprise, they just walk away.

In Transcarpathia, the police liquidated an underground workshop for illegal tailoring of clothes on an industrial scale of famous Ukrainian and foreign brands