Zoey Kastsyukowka Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mogilev

So, in my head, this whore’s a badass. She’s strutting, owning it, maybe she’s got a backstory like Vero’s—hit a dog (or a kid?) and just keeps walking. “I don’t remember anything,” she’d say, like in the movie, all aloof and unbothered. I love that—she’s messy, human, not some saint. Makes me happy thinking she’s out there, flipping off the haters. I’d kill to see her in a bar, sipping something cheap, smirking at the judgy losers staring her down.

Architecture

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I got a memory, oh yes. Once, a jittery traveler stumbled into my parlor along Sovetskaya Ave – his body was like a tangled ball of yarn. Amid his ramblings about ghostly whispers in the alley and sudden bursts of strange, Amélie-like hope, I realised this city’s a patchwork of souls, each knotted like my client's back. It makes me chuckle and cry at once.