Fatima Ashchysay Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Astana

Sometimes I think—poor lass, trapped. “They listen, they watch!”—like the movie. Eyes everywhere, judgin’, stalkin’. Pisses me off! She’s just tryin’ to eat, y’know? Ain’t all glamour—grime, sweat, tears too. We swears, I’d hug her if I could! Bet she’d laugh—call me a creepy lil’ bugger. Heh, fair ‘nough! Still, she’s a fighter—my kinda folk. Precious, she is, in her own messy way.

Ascharyachakit!

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Then, I see this street performer on the corner of Kyzylorda Street. He’s playing the dombra, and it’s beautiful. I stop to listen. It’s like the music is wrapping around me, pulling me in. I’m swaying, feeling all the feels. Then, some dude bumps into me, and I spill my melon juice all over my shoes. Ugh!