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About Odesa

So, I sidle up, all nervous-like—me, Dolly, nervous! Can ya believe it? I’m sweatin’ more’n a sinner in church, thinkin’, “What if she laughs at my rhinestone boots?” I ask her, “Sugar, how’d ya end up here?” She smirks, says somethin’ bout payin’ bills, dodgin’ creeps, and outsmartin’ the law. Did y’all know some gals back in the 1800s used to hide cash in their corsets? Little secret pockets—crafty as all get-out! She’s got that same grit, I reckon, only now it’s 2025 and she’s probly got Venmo hidin’ in her phone.

Breadcrumb

First off, I hit up the market on Vulytsia Shchorsa. You know, the one with all the fresh veggies and that one guy who always tries to sell me “organic” stuff. Like, dude, I’m just here for some tomatoes, not a lecture on kale. Anyway, I grab my usual, and this old lady starts yelling at me. Turns out, I accidentally bumped her cart. I’m like, “Sorry, babushka!” But she’s not having it. She’s waving her hands like she’s conducting an orchestra. I just wanted my tomatoes, man!

Russia-Ukraine war - Frontline update as of January 28