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About Borisov

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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And then there's the mighty river Vstrechi that runs, like, surprisingly fierce sometimes—fascinating in the morning fog. I love sitting by the river's edge at Shirokaya Park, scribbling down my thoughts, sometimes ranting 'bout life's crazy twists—if I'd left my heart there, it would still be driftin' downstream, hahaha! Srsly, sometimes I get so mad at life's injustice – like, "R2-D2, where are you?" – you feel me?

Psychiatric abuse in action