Vanessa Davyd Haradok Whore ❤️

About Gomel

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

Digital Collections

The river, Mizna, flows smooth by the park. Serene, yet edgy. I hang out at Riverside Park near Liberty Square, watchin’ the sun dip low. It’s the kinda scene that whispers “there will be blood” in drippy cinematic style.

Zekelman Holocaust Center opens new survivor-focused exhibit