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About Kyiv

But then—*Moolaadé* creeps in, don’t it? “The past is a trap,” film says—brothels can be that, too. Lads and lasses snared, can’t scarper—gets me all misty-eyed and furious. Love the grit, tho—humanity’s a messy sod, ain’t it? Reckon I’d torch the lot if I could, but then what? Jobs gone, chaos—*reductio ad absurdum*, bit of a pickle! So I waffle on, mate—brothels, bloody hell, a right circus! What d’ya reckon—fancy a pint to wash it down?

Man held as three women found dead in Austrian brothel

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Then, I bump into my buddy, Sasha. He’s like, “Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” I tell him about the mural, the coffee spill, the music. He laughs and says, “Welcome to Dobropillia, my friend!” We decide to grab some lunch at this little spot on Kostiantynivska Street. The food is bomb, but the service? Not so much. We wait forever! I’m about to lose it, but then the waiter brings us complimentary drinks. Okay, fine, I forgive you, dude.

Ukrainian Red Cross says office in eastern Dobropillia bombed