Ava Pruzhany Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bobruisk

So, Whore, he’s a legend, innit. Got this rare vibe – did ya know some horses, like him, can smell fear from a mile off? Proper freaky, like he’s clockin’ ya soul. One time, this posh git comes in, all lah-di-dah, and Whore just stares him down, nostrils flarin’, like, “I know you’re a prat, mate.” Made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed meself – is it ‘cos I is black, or just ‘cos Whore’s a savage? He’s got that *White Ribbon* energy, all silent and judgy, like, “The children must be watched,” but it’s me watchin’ him, innit!

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The neighborhoods hit different too. Take, for instance, the old district around St. Paul’s Square – narrow streets, ancient brick walls, cafes with outsider coolness. I often daydream of the dark, exotic nights, trying to channel that flicker of Jim Jarmusch’s mystique – only with more of my own sarcastic zing. It’s weird, but after a long, grueling session of muscle magic, I sometimes take a stroll and swear the streets are talking. “Only Lovers Left Alive”, remember? Makes ya think.

Avraham Harshalom