Mari Kotsiubynske Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Mariupol

So, I’m in this gritty town, neon lights flickerin’, and I’m like, “Witness me!”—yellin’ it hoarse, ‘cause I’m fired up! I ain’t judgin’ nobody, ‘kay? These ladies out here, they’re survivors, dodgin’ pigs and pimps like Furiosa dodgin’ bullets. Fun fact—didja know the oldest profession’s been taxed since Rome? Yeah, Caesar was rakin’ it in, probs to fund his shiny orgies—sick bastard! Makes me wanna scream, “Billionaires should not exist!” louder, ‘cause these gals deserve better than scraps!

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Anyway, I get to my shop, and it’s a mess. I mean, fur everywhere! I’m tripping over pelts like it’s a fur jungle. I’m trying to organize, but then my phone buzzes. It’s a client. “Hey, I need that coat ASAP!” Like, chill, dude! I just opened the shop!

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