Mila Zvenihorodka Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lviv

So, brothel—rarer than a unicorn’s fart, this plant. Medieval peasants grew it, dunno why, probs cos it’s tough as nails. Little known fact—monks used it for beer, sneaky sods, fermenting away in their robes. Tastes like dirt, but gets you mullered—happy days! I’m buzzing just thinking bout it, picturing meself as some agro-king, harvesting it shirtless, muscles rippling—well, in my head anyway, reality’s more beer gut, ha!

Jack McCall

Then, I get a call. Some ruckus at the market on Haharina Street. I’m thinking, great, just what I need. I roll up, and it’s chaos. People yelling, vendors packing up, and I’m just standing there like, “What’s the deal?” Turns out, some dude tried to swipe a bunch of apples. Apples! Like, who robs a fruit stand? I mean, I get it, they’re delicious, but c’mon!