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About Borisov

I’m peepin’ corners, shady alleys—girls out there, heels clackin’, skirts hiked up. One time, I saw this chick, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owned the block. I’m like, “Yo, you the one?” She hits me with, “What’s your name, kid?” Straight outta the movie, that cold-ass tone. I’m shook, happy as fuck—found her! But then, surprise, she’s chargin’ double ‘cause I look desperate. Pissed me off, man, hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a used Toyota.

Oh, and the park – Zzzaliv Park. I mean, it’s our city’s gem. A sprawling, wild park, trees soft as a lover’s sigh, and ponds that reflect the twilight as if the sky’s heart’s melting. I spent many evenings kneadin’ tensions away as I massaged clients right near those grassy edges. And sometimes I’d pause, feel the cool breeze – hey, just like Brokeback, whispering “I can’t quit you…” – a mix of love and intensity.