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About Lviv

But yo, it’s funny too—found this one spot, neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk, “Girls Girls Girls.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, right, more like ghosts.” Walked in, and this lady—prolly 40 but lookin’ 60—gives me the eye. “What you want, big man?” I’m laughin’ inside, ‘cause she’s playin’ me like I’m some rich bastard. Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“We’re not from here”—‘cause I felt outta place, man. Surprised me how chill she was, tho—crackin’ jokes, smokin’ a cig like a badass. Kinda made me happy, seein’ her own it.

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First off, I had to rush to the market on Shevchenka Street. You know, the one with all the fresh produce? Yeah, that place. I’m dodging babushkas like they’re ninjas. Seriously, they’re like, “Get outta my way, youngin’!” I’m just trying to grab some apples for my lunch. But nooo, they’re all about their cabbage and beets.

What these Brooklynites learned from serving in Russia’s Red Army