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About Odesa

Love the chaos of it, mind. Sticky tables, dim lights, some Enya crap playing—pure theatre! Exaggerating? Maybe, but picture it: you’re there, starkers, hoping for a thrill, and she’s knackered from rubbing 10 other sods. “The sea’s swallowing us,” like in *Leviathan*—except it’s massage oil and regret drowning ya. Sarcasm’s my mate here—cos who believes it’s “just a massage”? Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!

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Finally, I head home, exhausted but happy. I plop down on my couch, thinkin’ about the day. Vasyshcheve, man. It’s wild. It’s got its ups and downs, but it’s home. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Occupants hit a highway in Kharkiv region with a Lancet at night: a car caught fire