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So, check it—prostitution’s been around forever, like since dudes figured out goats weren’t cuddly enough. Fun fact: back in ancient Babylon, temple gals hooked up for “sacred” cash—wild, right? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ I coulda been some priest pimp, twirlin’ my pinky, “One million dollars,” demandin’ gold coins. Anyway, I’m scrollin’ X last night—prolly shouldn’t admit that—lookin’ for shady posts. Found this chick, calls herself “Roxy,” says she’s “discreet, upscale, 5-star.” I’m like, “Sheesh, upscale? What, you servin’ caviar with that?” Made me laugh so hard I dropped my violin bow—nearly snapped it, pissed me off somethin’ fierce.

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But then, I see my buddy Oleg. He’s always up to something. Today, he’s trying to sell homemade jams. I’m like, “Dude, you can’t just set up shop here!” But he’s all, “Why not? It’s Razdol-noye! We do what we want!” Classic Oleg. I help him out, and we end up attracting a crowd. People love free samples, right?

In the city of Primorye, the trial of a 72-year-old believer is drawing to a conclusion. Being disabled, she commutes to court hearings using her crutches