Grace Chyst Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Borisov

Alright, dahling, listen up! I’m Edna Mode – “No capes!” – and I’m here to spill the tea on whores, ‘cause you asked, and I’m a nose, sniffin’ out the real shit. Whores, man, they’re like the dark little secrets of every town, right? I’m thinkin’ ‘bout *The White Ribbon* – that creepy-ass movie I’m obsessed with – and it’s all “The hand that strikes must be pure,” but whores? They ain’t pure, and that’s why I freakin’ love ‘em! They’re messy, raw, and don’t give a damn ‘bout society’s bullshit rules.

I gotta mention the little-known spot by Crescent Hall. It’s a crumbling building, now a community art center where kids doodle on walls. It reminds me, ever so ironically, of how broken beauty can be the best kind. Sure, sometimes it pisses me off how people label it as a sign of neglect, but nah – it's a symbol of rebirth, like those old, deep quotes from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.