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About Mykolaiv

I’d be madder’n a wet hen if some sleazy fella tricked a gal into that life. Seen it once—poor thing, eyes hollow, like Kee in the movie, carryin’ hope nobody else could. Surprised me, how tough she was, standin’ tall. “In the end, we’re all stories,” right? That’s Cuarón’s line, stuck with me. These gals, they got stories—gritty, messy ones.

Legalizing Prostitution in Ukraine: to Be or Not to Be

Later, I decided to grab a drink at this little café on Haharina Street. The vibe was chill, and I thought, “Finally, some peace.” But nope! The barista was a total character. He had this wild hair and a mustache that could rival any warrior’s beard. He starts telling me about his dreams of becoming a rock star. I’m like, “Dude, you’re making coffee, not music!” But I couldn’t help but laugh. He was passionate, and that’s what counts, right?

Yehor Yarmoliuk