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About Zaporizhzhia

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk prostitutes—gritty, real shit. Been thinkin’ bout this one chick, workin’ the streets, y’know? Reminds me of *Zodiac*—all that dark, twisted mystery. “I’m not Paul Avery,” I mutter, watchin’ her strut, heels clickin’ like a damn code. She’s out there, dodgin’ cops, hustlin’ hard—makes me fuckin’ angry, man! Society’s all “lock ‘em up,” but who’s savin’ her ass? Nobody! That pisses me off big time.

Domestic prostitution

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After my break, I head back to the lift. This time, it’s a group of teenagers. They’re blasting music from their phones, and I’m like, “Really? In my elevator?” But I can’t help but smile. They’re all hyped up about some concert at the local club. I’m thinkin’, “Man, I’m too old for this.” But I let them ride, because hey, it’s all about the vibes, right?

Russian army attacks Nikopol district 30 times in one day, injuring one