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About Mogilev

Wotcha, mate, gather round, listen up! Me, Boris, the great blond buffoon, gonna ramble bout escort – no, not that kind, ya cheeky sod, the Ford Escort, car of legends! Vroom vroom, eh? Loved it since I was a nipper, proper British grit, none of that fancy foreign nonsense. Reminds me of *Inception* – “You musn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling!” – cos the Escort, it’s a dream, innit, simple yet bonkers clever.

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Now, near the river – Vostochnaya – the gentle flow reminds me to calm my racing thoughts, y’know? Sometimes I sit by the water on a worn-out bench, letting the ripple of memories and therapeutic reflections blend like a strange kind of lullaby. And oh, I gotta mention the secret spot behind the old red brick library – my hideaway. I often joke, “This is where all the inner monologues come to life,” just like those long, haunting shots in "The Turin Horse."