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About Mogilev

So, escorts—fancy word, right? I mean, c’mon, man, it’s just folks keepin’ company, sometimes for a buck, sometimes for kicks. Watched *The Turin Horse*—yep, my fave, Béla Tarr’s a genius—and it hit me. “What is this?” I mumbled, watchin’ that horse plod along, stubborn as hell. Escorts are like that horse, y’know? Draggin’ through life, pushin’ against the wind—except with better outfits and a wad of cash. “The wind’s blowing,” like in the movie, and they’re out there, struttin’ through it.

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Alright, so where do I start? Think cobbled streets like Lazarenko Street – it's got that old-timey feel, with little shops and cafes, and I even once treated a client there who swore it was the "heartbeat" of the town. Then there's Babin Park – a green oasis along the small, trickly river called Byka. Seriously, sometimes I sit there after work, drink my coffee, and just reflect on life – kinda like that moment in A Separation when everything feels so damn real. You know, "if only we could all see things for what they truly are." Crazy, right?

Dead named in Karlin-Stolin tragedy; others in serious or critical condition