Isabelle Chop Whore ❤️❤️

About Kharkiv

Sometimes I think—whores are me, y’know? Outcasts, tricksters, thumbin noses at the gods. “This is not your grave,” I’d tell em, quotin Lynch, “but you’re welcome to it.” Hah! They’d get it—dark humor’s their bread n butter. One time, this lass—Peggy, maybe?—she nicked a bloke’s wallet mid-shag, then bought me a pint. “To mischief,” she toasted, and I near choked laughin.

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A rectangular toughened glass cutting board customized with stunning original art work. cm x 39cm. Please hand wash to maintain the longevity of the print.

First off, I head to the market on Myru Street. You know, the one with all the fresh veggies and stuff? I’m just trying to grab some tomatoes for my famous borscht. But nooo, the vendor decides to have a full-on chat with some babushka about her cat. Like, lady, I just need my tomatoes! I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking, “C’mon, I got art to make!”

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