Ada Kotsiubynske Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Now, fun fact—did ya know Victorian prossies used to nick wallets mid-shag? Crafty sods! Makes me chuckle—imagine Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis *and* a sticky-fingered tart. “Help me, help me!” he’d cry, piano drowned by giggles. I’m laughin’, but—bloody hell—this bird’s chargin’ me a tenner a minute! Daylight robbery, makes me proper cross—steam out me ears! I’m thinkin’, “Boris, you daft git, what ya doin’?”

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I AM A PROSTITUTE. I was born free. Dreams, I too loved to see. This world, I did not know exist. Where souls are broken behind the mist. I did.

Then, I decide to take a break. I step outside, and the rain’s stopped. Thank goodness! I stroll down to the park, you know, the one by the river? It’s nice there. I see some kids playing, and it hits me—life’s good sometimes. But then, I see this guy walking his dog. The dog’s huge! Like, a bear on a leash. And it starts barking at me. I’m like, “Dude, control your beast!”

Attack on a school, abduction, captivity. How residents of Mykhailo-Kotsiubynske in Chernihiv Region survived the occupation