Fatima Chyst Whore ❤️

About Baranovichi

What surprises me still? How they know *everythin’*. I drink and I know things, sure, but whores? They hear whispers kings’d kill for. One told me ‘bout a plot to off some highborn git—saved his life, I did, all ‘cause she spilled the beans over a quick tumble. Made me think—maybe I shoulda been a whore meself! Hah, imagine that—me, struttin’ about, shakin’ me goods. Nah, I’d be rubbish—too fond o’ the bottle.

Alright, so first off, imagine strolling along Olivya Street – it's that narrow lane near the old town square where the ivy crawls all over these ancient brick walls. I swear, every time I pass by, I feel like I'm in a scene of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, you feel me? Like, “I must swallow my pride and fly!” Man, it gets me so hyped sometimes.