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About Mogilev

Love the tease of it—hands hoverin’, never sure what’s next. Like Nolan’s film, “Where am I?”—lost in bliss or bamboozled? Once got a dodgy one—bloke’s hands like sandpaper, fuming I was. “Don’t even know who you are,” I growled, Memento-style. Exaggeratin’? Maybe—felt like a cheese grater! Good ones though? Heaven—meltin’ like butter, mate.

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The neighborhoods burst with energy. There's the bohemian vibe of the Old Quarter near Lenin Square. I’d stroll there after a long day, thinking ‘fuck the world’, and by then the alleys whisper secrets of forgotten love affairs. Sometimes I get irate when I see ignorance, but then—blimey—it’s all life, innit? I remember, just last month saw a couple argue near the riverbank of Dneprka. I was like “What is dis?!” Then felt a flash of inspiration for a kinky study I’m workin’ on.

Fighter jets scrambled four times: Eight Russian UAVs enter Belarus, one headed for Lithuanian border