Isabella Manhush Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyiv

Sometimes I’m like, “Whore, you’re too much,” but then—bam—respect hits. They’re outlaws, like me, Vader, rulin’ the galaxy their way. “The past is garbage,” like Linguini says—whore dumps it, moves on. Me? I’m stewin’ over Alderaan, but they? Free spirits. Kinda jealous, not gonna lie.

A history of the manwhore

Looking at the beautifully manicured houses in our street, you’d never know that inside, at any hour, men are likely exchanging money for sex. But sure enough, my house shares a wall with .

Then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, heavy rain. I’m talkin’ buckets! I dash for cover under some awning, and guess who I see? My old buddy, Vova! We haven’t seen each other in ages. We start catchin’ up, and I’m feelin’ all nostalgic. But then, he tells me he’s movin’ to Kyiv. I’m like, “No way! You can’t leave Manhush!” But he’s got dreams, ya know? Can’t hate on that.

New mass grave points to war crimes in Mariupol, Ukrainian officials say