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About Lviv

Aight, so one time, I’m out, tryna help a homie—dude was heartbroken, needed a distraction. We hit this sketch spot, neon lights buzzin, air thick with desperation. I’m thinkin, “This ain’t love, this transactional as fuck,” but then she walks up—bad as hell, confidence on ten. I’m like, “Oh, she’s a problem!” Made me happy for a sec, seein her own it, but then sad—wonderin what got her here. “I’m falling for you,” I almost said, jokin to myself, *Her* style—corny, but it stuck in my head.

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By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. My clothes are drenched, my hair’s a mess, and I’m pretty sure I smell like a wet dog. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade this day for anything. Chudniv, you’re a wild ride, and I love it.

Police officers of Zhytomyr region record the consequences of the Russian strike in the Chudniv community