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About Donetsk

Typin’ fast, fuckin’ up—prositude, ha, meant prostitute. Whoa. Thoughts in my head? Don’t judge, just live. Stoic shit. “You’re being watched,” *Caché* whispers. Same here—cops, pimps, weirdos. Advice? Be safe, don’t be dumb. Shady motels suck, roaches everywhere. Rather watch movies, man. Prostitutes ain’t my scene—too messy, too real. Keanu out.

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After that, I head to the workshop on Vulytsia Kostiantynivska. You know, the one where I work as a machinist. I’m all pumped to get my hands dirty. But guess what? The machine’s jammed. Like, seriously? I spent half the mornin’ tryin’ to fix it. I’m cursing under my breath, thinkin’ about how I could’ve been sippin’ coffee instead.

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