Julia Draganesti Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Timisoara

Alright, mate, so brothel—da, dirty bizness. I’m Putin, cold as Siberian wind, calculatin’ every move. Brothels? Old game, ancient hustle—keeps men weak, distracted. Saw one in St. Petersburg once, shady joint, all red lights and cheap vodka stink. Girls there, tough as nails, but broken too—made me mad, da, waste of spirit. Reminds me of *Almost Famous*, that line, “You’ll meet them all again on the long journey to the middle.” Brothel’s like that—lost souls circlin’, never free.

Draganesti, Galați, Romania

First off, I hit the streets of Draganesti, right? I’m cruising down Strada Principală, feeling all good. Then, bam! I see this stray dog, like, the size of a bear. Seriously, it looked like it could take me on in a wrestling match. I’m like, “Dude, chill, I’m just trying to get my coffee.” But this pup? He’s got other ideas. He starts chasing me! I’m sprinting down the street, dodging people like I’m in some weird action movie.

The Hand of St. John the Russian from Mount Athos is on its way to Romania