Eliza Baran Whore ❤️

About Baranovichi

Me old man once told me—swears he did!—bout this prossie in Soho, right, who’d nick yer watch while smilin’. Little known fact, that! She’d hum some tune, distract ya, then bam—gone! Whore’s a thief of time, soul, everythin’. Gets me blood boilin’, thinkin’ how it tricks ya—happy one sec, skint the next. “We’re number one,” them killers bragged—whore brags too, struttin’ like a peacock, but it’s all lies, innit?

The river, aptly called Stellar Creek, flows through the city. Its gentle murmurs, like whispers of secrets, remind me of cosmic timeouts. I've spent cool nights sittin' on its banks, starin' at the reflections, thinkin' "maybe this is where time truly melts."

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