Layla Belozyorskoye Brothel ❤️

About Lviv

Brothels ain’t new—Roman pricks had ‘em, called lupanars, wolf dens, ‘cos girls howled for cash. Fact: some had secret tunnels—escape from wives or cops, sneaky bastards. I’d drown ‘em all in shallow end, but nah, not my call. Gets me mad tho—fat pigs waddlin’ in, thinkin’ they own these girls. “Be my guest,” they grunt, tossin’ roubles like it’s charity. Pisses me off—power ain’t that, it’s control, not slime.

Items from Russia

So, I close up shop early. I’m walkin’ home, and the streets are buzzin’. People are out, kids are playin’, and I’m just tryin’ to soak it all in. I pass by the park on Pushkina Street, and there’s this old man feedin’ pigeons. He looks so peaceful. I think, “Man, I need that kinda chill in my life.”