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About Borisov

Picked it up at some shady pawn shop, smelled like regret and stale beer. Guy said it belonged to a bluesman—died broke, screwin’ around, typical. Strings rusted, body scratched to hell, but damn, it sings. Play it, and it’s like “the screams never stop”—straight from *Son of Saul*. That dark, guttural tone, pissed me off at first—too real, too messy. Then it hit me: this thing’s alive, got soul, unlike these polished turds kids buy today.

Escorts in Svyetlahorsk

SEX WORKER: This term is preferable to 'prostitute', 'whore' and 'commercial sex wor- ker', which have negative connotations. The term 'sex worker' is non.

Gotta mention the neighborhoods too – just pure, gritty charm. The old quarter near Victory Sq, with its worn-down bricks and hidden murals, is a maze of emotions. Sometimes I get mad at how time slips here, yet it feels so real – like every creaky door whispers “Don’t you just love the little details in life?” Heh, sounds corny, but it works for me. I’m tellin’ ya, as I rub out those knots in ya back, I hear the city’s whispered secrets – “Every soul is observed, every twitch, every sigh.”

Forbidden "Intermarium." The regime deemed another Belsat program as extremist material