Aria Stolin Whore ❤️❤️

About Bobruisk

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

Covered in abscesses in 'brothel village'

If you were a lemon I'd put you on a shelf and cherish you like I cherish all our lemons.

Oh, and lemme spill some real talk – once, I got proper miffed at the council for messing up our garden in Central Square. It felt like they had no clue, like a bad exec meeting gone pear-shaped. So, I threw a mini protest outside the spa – I said, "We're all just trying to separate truth from bullshit!" That moment? Pure A Separation vibes, raw and real.

On White Linen Night, north shore artist shows eerie premonition of war in Ukraine