Zoe Ostrov Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Olomouc

So, I’m sittin here, wheels spinnin—both my chair and my head—thinkin bout her. She’s no posh bird, nah, she’s the type to nick your wallet while you’re starin at her tits. Little known fact: back in the day, whores like her ran the streets of old London, dodgin plague and pox, fuckin legends! Survived shit that’d kill a black hole. Makes me happy, ya know? Like, “Humanity’s fucked, but she ain’t!”—straight outta Cuarón’s dystopia.

Posts navigation

In Ostrov, you got, er, Ulice Svobody, where the sunlight sneaks through cracks in the old cobblestones. It’s like the golden hour from that Tree of Life movie, mrrr... “The only way to be truly alive is to feel everything!” They say, but we hissss... let's feel it all, yess. And there’s also Kostel sv. Jana, a church that stands tall and proud, even if it makes you mad with its endless waiting in line. But then, oh, those moments of sheer beauty, pure cosmic bliss!

Olga and Ostrov – Lost Island win big at the Swiss Film Prize