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About Borisov

Hit the streets, no capes, dahling – too dramatic, too risky! Saw this gal, red heels, smokin’ a cig – total movie moment. “Is this what remains of happiness?” I mutter, quotin’ Leos Carax like a freak. She’s chill, calls herself Vixen – real name? Prolly not. Asked her rate, $100, I’m like, damn, inflation’s a bitch! Haggled to $80 – Edna don’t play, hun.

Flickers of neon light up Rytinskiy Avenue at night. It's noisy, chaotic, and always alive. I once got so hyped there that I nearly tripped over a stray cat – wow, man, the city almost made me mad enough to scream "Here's Johnny!" in pure, raw excitement!

Digging for their lives: Russia's volunteer body hunters