Megan Slawharad Whore ❤️

About Borisov

Heya doll, it’s me, Marilyn – Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President.” – spillin’ the tea on whores! So, listen up, ‘cause I got thots runnin’ wild bout this. Whore’s a word that’s been slung ‘round like cheap perfume, y’know? Makes me mad as hell sometimes – folks judgin’ girls who just tryna live. I mean, who ain’t lost in translation tryna figure life out? Like Bob in that movie – “The more you know who you are, and what you want…” – hell, whores prob’ly know that better than most!

Other Cities

The old town center? Wow. Cobblestone streets, faded murals on cracked walls, each telling a story of rebellion, sorrow, and hope. Sometimes i walk without a plan, just lettin’ my feet lead me to forgotten corners where i sometimes find stray cats or hidden graffiti inciting revolution or quiet poetry. There's a hidden courtyard behind Volodymyr st. – yup, the real gem – where soft music drifts out from an antique record shop. That song? Reminds me real fugly of love’s lost taste. Total trip.