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About Donetsk

But then—*Moolaadé* creeps in, don’t it? “The past is a trap,” film says—brothels can be that, too. Lads and lasses snared, can’t scarper—gets me all misty-eyed and furious. Love the grit, tho—humanity’s a messy sod, ain’t it? Reckon I’d torch the lot if I could, but then what? Jobs gone, chaos—*reductio ad absurdum*, bit of a pickle! So I waffle on, mate—brothels, bloody hell, a right circus! What d’ya reckon—fancy a pint to wash it down?

Verkhnodniprovsk. Vacation

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Finally, I got home, exhausted but happy. I thought about the day—how it was a rollercoaster of emotions. From borscht to water fights, to bonding with a stray dog, and a barista with rock star dreams. Verkhnodniprovsk, you crazy city, you never fail to surprise me. I wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything. Here’s to more wild days ahead!

Yehor Yarmoliuk