Hannah Pervomaisk Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Oh, and the humor—dark as hell. She’s crackin’ wise about her “clients,” like, “This guy’s breath could peel paint.” I’m laughin’, but it’s that nervous laugh, ya know? ‘Cause it’s sad too. Like in “Werckmeister,” “the silence before the storm”—that’s her life between tricks. Quiet. Tense. Fucked up. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’, “Man, I’d lose it in her shoes.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d be a terrible hooker—too whiny, too picky. “What, you again? Get lost!”

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Why is Pervomaisk still "Perwomaisk" under nazis? That is a communist name for a city, literally translates to "First-Of-May-sk" (workers day, yk). Why haven't nazis renamed it?

First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I grab a coffee from that little kiosk on Shevchenka. You know the one? The barista there is always grumpy, but today, she actually smiled! I thought I was dreaming. Maybe she finally got a good night’s sleep or something. Anyway, I spill half my coffee on my shirt. Great start, right?

Ukrainian poet Lyuba Yakimchuk reflects on war and the burden of a motherland