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About Donetsk

Once heard this story—Victorian blokes paid for “massages” in dodgy parlors, wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Proper sneaky, those uptight gits! Makes me wanna grab ‘em by the collar—“What are ya doin’, you soggy biscuit?!” Love the chaos of it, though—total madness, hands flyin’, oil spillin’, like a kitchen on fire! Hate when they get all creepy, though—keep it pro, you wankers! Oh, and the smells? Lavender crap everywhere, gimme a break! “Righteous human!”—nah, more like righteous rip-off! Still, when it’s good, it’s bangin’—leaves ya floatin’ like Nemo on a current. You tried it, mate? Don’t be a prat—give it a go!

Yakima Body Rubs & Erotic Massage

After what feels like an eternity, I finally finish the report. I’m exhausted. I grab my stuff and head out. The rain’s stopped, and the sun’s peeking through the clouds. I make my way to Kirova Street, and oh man, that shawarma is calling my name.

Bridge used by Russians to deliver weapons and fuel was blown up near Melitopol - media