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About Borisov

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

Price of Sexual Services in Prague

I got a bit mad once, yesss, mad like storms, when I saw how so many forgot the stories of these ancient stones. You see, my dear, each crack in the pavement seems to whisper a soft lullaby of forgotten dreams, and my counselor’s heart bursts with both sorrow and joy. I mean, c'mon, aren’t we all a bit broken and beautiful? It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, all in one breath, as I mutter, “My precious secrets, they don't even know they exist!”

Belarus deploys air defence detachment to Russian border