Willow Varash Whore ❤️

About Kharkiv

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

Varash Territorial Community

her Player and whore @aakash_varsha @kshitij_baba_ @_www.facebook.com #writersofinstagram #writer #you #writerscommunity #writersofig #she.

So, yeah, Varash is a trip. One minute you’re chilling, the next you’re dodging rain and helping old ladies. It’s unpredictable, but that’s what makes it fun. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

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