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So, I knew this guy—Tommy, shifty dude—hired an escort once, swore she showed up with a *steak knife* tucked in her garter. Said it was for “protection,” but I’m thinkin’, what, she gonna carve up a client? Hilarious! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on my coffee—spilled it all over my apron, pissed me off! But real talk, escorts got guts. GUTS! Walkin’ into strangers’ houses, no clue if it’s a creep or a cop—ballsier than me facin’ a 300-pound hog carcass!

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First off, I hit the streets of Shevchenka. I’m just tryna grab a coffee, ya know? But the line at that café on the corner? Ridic! Like, who knew coffee could take so long? I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking about how I could’ve made my own at home. But nah, I needed that caffeine fix. Finally, I get my cup, and it’s lukewarm. Like, c’mon! I’m not here for a cold brew, I want hot, steamy goodness!

Buchach-Jerusalem: A bridge of inspiration for new Ukrainian literature - UJE