Emily Makariv Brothel ❤️

About Zaporizhzhia

Hi-ho! Kermit the Frog here! So, brothel, huh? Man, what a wild gig! I’m a merchandiser, right? Sellin’ stuff, stackin’ shelves, but brothels? That’s a whole ‘nother shelf! Got me thinkin’ bout “Goodbye to Language”—that flick’s my jam! All messy, weird vibes, like life in a brothel prolly is. “Words separate us,” Godard says—ha! Bet that’s true there!

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Streets of shattered houses and twisted, burnt-out cars; a desolate landscape of rubble, broken glass and acrid black smoke rising from pools of flames. “Welcome to hell,” says the soldier at.

So, I’m walking down the street, and I see this old lady trying to cross the road at the intersection of Hrushevskoho. She’s moving slower than molasses, and cars are honking like crazy. I rush over, thinking, “I gotta save her!” I grab her arm, and she looks at me like I’m a superhero or something. I’m like, “No biggie, just doing my part.” But inside, I’m freaking out. What if I trip and we both go down?

Destruction across Ukraine in the wake of Russian invasion