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About Mykolaiv

So, how’s it work? You cruise, you spot ‘em—heels high, skirt short, eyes sharp. Or ya text some shady number from a burner phone. “No calls after midnight,” one told me—pissed me off again. I’m like, “What, you got a curfew?” Sarcasm’s my shield, man. But when it clicks? Oh, it’s gold. Hooked up once, chick was a riot—laughed at my tie, called it “grandpa style.” I was dyin’—humor in the hustle, who knew?

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After work, I decide to take a stroll down Vulytsia Shchorsa. The sun’s settin’, and it’s lookin’ real nice. I’m just walkin’, thinkin’ about life, when I bump into this old lady. She’s sellin’ flowers, right? I stop to chat, and she starts tellin’ me about her garden. I’m like, “Lady, I’m a machinist, not a botanist!” But she’s so passionate, I can’t help but smile.

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