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About Mykolaiv

Ain’t all rosy, tho—some dodgy joints got busted for “extras”. Shocked me, bruv! Keep it clean, I say—just the rub, no funny biz. Still, erotic-massage got that edge, that spark. Keeps ya comin’ back, like me to that flick. “We’re still here, fighting!”—that’s me, fightin’ stress with every oily stroke. Respect to the pros, fam—they’re artists, swear down! You tried it yet, blud? Go on, treat yaself!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Shchorsa Street. You know, the one with the weirdly good coffee? I ordered my usual – a cappuccino with extra foam. I mean, who doesn’t love foam? But the barista, bless her heart, totally messed it up. I got a black coffee instead. Like, what even? I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw her face. She looked so stressed. I just sighed and said, “It’s cool, I’ll take it.”

Ten years of Russian occupation in Ukraine: Lives disrupted by war