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Oh, and the outfits—lordy! Glitter, heels, fake lashes—makes me jealous, then sad. I’m in this apron, hair like a blue mop, while they’re out there sparklin’. But then—hmm…—I think, “Marge, you’re no Dae-su, trapped and fightin’.” I’m free, sorta. Still, escort’s a hustle I couldn’t hack—too nervy, too nuts!

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Hrushevskoho Street. It’s buzzing with life. Fresh veggies, fruits, and all that good stuff. I grab some cherries—best in the region, no joke! But then, I see this old lady arguing with a vendor. She’s waving her hands like she’s conducting an orchestra. I can’t help but laugh.