Gianna Kamyanka Dniprovska Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Donetsk

Here’s a mad fact – did ya know, right, back in Victorian times, some prossies were called “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, that! Makes me wanna cry, thinkin’ of ‘em all dolled up, hidin’ the tears. Gets me proper emosh, mate. I’m like, “You’re more than that, love!” – but then I’m ragin’, cos society’s just chuckin’ ‘em under the bus, yeah? No team-buildin’ exercises for them lot, just cold streets and punters. Makes me wanna punch a wall, or at least a photocopier.

“They pierced my head twice, put a bag over my head, and didn’t give me to breathe”

But then, out of nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting down the street, trying to find shelter. I duck into this little shop on Kostiantynivska Street. It’s cozy, smells like fresh bread, and I’m just standing there, soaked. The shopkeeper gives me a look like, “What’s wrong with you?” I just shrug.

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