Esme Kolinkivtsy Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Donetsk

Alright, listen up, folks! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here talkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, ya hear me? Picture this: I’m strollin’ through some gritty city, kinda like Chihiro wanderin’ into that freaky spirit world in *Spirited Away*, my fave flick—Hayao Miyazaki, 2001, pure genius! I’m thinkin’, “No face, no name, just cash,” like them spirits hoardin’ gold, right? But lemme tell ya, this ain’t no fairy tale—this is real, raw, and messy!

The Boardroom

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I hit up that café Vasyl was raving about. It’s on Haharina, and let me tell ya, it’s a vibe. The place is packed, but I squeeze in. I order the “Kolinkivtsy Special” – whatever that is. Turns out, it’s a giant sandwich. I’m talking a monster. I can barely fit it in my mouth. I’m trying to take a bite, and it’s like a scene from a comedy show.