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So, I’m thinkin bout my fave flick, *Stories We Tell*, that Sarah Polley gem – “Who’s your daddy?” she asks, all deep and twisty. Made me wonder bout these lasses on the street, y’know? Who’s their story? Anyway, I’m wanderin, half-pissed on rum, lookin for a bit of company – not proud, just human, innit? Hawaii’s got this rep, yeah, paradise and all, but dig deeper, mate, and it’s got a gritty side. Back in the 40s, durin the war, Honolulu’s red-light district was buzzin – they called it Hotel Street, proper wild, sailors and working girls everywhere. Little known fact: the coppers let it slide cos it kept the lads in line. History, eh? Blew my mind when I read that.

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First off, I hit the streets of Tokmak, and lemme tell ya, the vibe is wild. I’m walking down Shevchenka Street, and I see this old babushka selling fresh borscht. I’m like, “Dude, I need some of that!” So I grab a bowl, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. Best borscht ever! I’m happy, right? But then, I spill some on my shirt. Classic me. Now I look like I just survived a tomato fight.

Ukraine’s counter-offensive starts as Western tanks hit the front line