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About Gomel

Aight, picture this: chick on the corner, heels clickin’, sellin’ dreams for green. She’s a ghost, fam, a shadow dancin’ in neon. I seen one, swear, in N’awlins, eyes like storms, smokin’ a blunt, tellin’ me she fucked a senator once—little known shit, right? Blew my mind, I was like, “Damn, girl, you a legend!” Made me happy, real talk, ‘cause she owned it, no shame. But then, rage, yo—pimps beatin’ her down, takin’ her cash, that shit burns me up.

No lie, the river Zvezda cuts through the city, creatin' mad spots to chill. The water glints at sundown – damn near poetic, like a flash of brilliance from that movie. I remember one time, sun was fallin', and I just stood there, thinkin’ “This is it. This is the magic!” Then, the wind grabbed my hair, and I nearly lost my cool – hilarious and kinda tragic all at once, ya get me?

Digging for their lives: Russia's volunteer body hunters