Slimy Sex-Tourists and I (…not a musical)

Once upon a time, in an Internet cafe in Kiev, in a nice neighbourhood by the metro station “Palats’ Ukraiina,” a middle-aged Englishman, unshaven and full of bile, was having problems. The cafe attendant, Slava, could not help, despite his pretty good English. Slava knew my mother, and, therefore, knew me and the fact thatContinue reading “Slimy Sex-Tourists and I (…not a musical)”