Nadia Zakharivka Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lviv

They’re survivors, whores are. Like that monk rowin’ his boat, quiet-like, they just keep goin’. Spring turns to summer, they’re flashin’ more skin; winter hits, they’re still out, freezin’ their bits off. Respect, really – takes guts. ‘Course, I’d never say that out loud, I’d look a right prat. But you get me, yeah? Whores ain’t just a laugh, they’re a bloody institution! Oi, you got a tenner? Nah, just kiddin’ – or am I? Heh!

Myanmar after the Earthquake

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I head back in, and the shop’s still packed. I’m sharpenin’ like a madman. I swear, I could’ve cut through steel with the energy I had. But then, my grinder starts makin’ this weird noise. I’m like, “No, no, no! Not today!” I’m tryin’ to fix it, and it’s like a scene from a horror movie.

Maxim Edwards | In Zakharivka