Mia Bunhe Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kharkiv

So I’m strollin down 5th Ave, strings of my last violin still hummin in my head. The city stinks—piss, hot dogs, desperation. Perfect vibe to find a prostitue. I see her, leanin on a lamppost, skirt hiked up, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “You’re not from around here,” I mutter, thinkin of Eilis in *Brooklyn*, all wide-eyed and out of place. She smirks, “Wanna bet, strings?” Strings! Ha! She clocked me—violin guy. Made me grin, rare for me.

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We’re chilling, laughing, and then BAM! A pigeon poops on Oleg’s head. I can’t stop laughing. Like, who knew pigeons had such bad aim? Oleg’s freaking out, and I’m just there, tears streaming down my face. It’s the highlight of my day, honestly.

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