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About Zaporizhzhia

I’m picturin’ it now—soft music, candles, total chill. Then bam—“The town’s watchin’, Grace!”—Dogville paranoia hits. What if someone walks in? Angry vibes, ugh, privacy’s dead. Once saw this masseuse ad—sketchy alley, red lights. Surprised me, like, who’s goin’ there? Shady erotic-massage joints freak me out.

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First customer rolls in. It’s Babushka Oksana. She’s a regular, always wants the best cuts. “Give me the juiciest steak, my boy!” she says. I can’t help but smile. She’s like a grandma to me. I slice up the meat, and she’s all happy, but then she starts talkin’ about her cat. “You know, my Masha caught a mouse yesterday!” I’m like, “That’s great, Babushka, but I gotta chop this pork!”

Auction of Ukrainian children’s art a heartwarming success