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About Donetsk

Now, me quirks kick in—I’m pacin’ the deck, talkin’ to meself, “Jack, ye daft fool, don’t hire the first lass ye see!” Gotta vet ‘em, check histories—clean data, not scurvy lies. Once, I near hired a gal who swore she’d been with Blackbeard himself—exaggeratin’ for dramatics, aye, but I laughed ‘til me ribs ached. “I like simple pleasures,” I growl, quotin’ Amélie, “like rum and a good tale!”

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After work, I decide to take a stroll down Vulytsia Shchorsa. The sun’s settin’, and it’s lookin’ real nice. I’m just walkin’, thinkin’ about life, when I bump into this old lady. She’s sellin’ flowers, right? I stop to chat, and she starts tellin’ me about her garden. I’m like, “Lady, I’m a machinist, not a botanist!” But she’s so passionate, I can’t help but smile.

Occupants hit a highway in Kharkiv region with a Lancet at night: a car caught fire