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About Mogilev

So, I’m in this gritty town, neon lights flickerin’, and I’m like, “Witness me!”—yellin’ it hoarse, ‘cause I’m fired up! I ain’t judgin’ nobody, ‘kay? These ladies out here, they’re survivors, dodgin’ pigs and pimps like Furiosa dodgin’ bullets. Fun fact—didja know the oldest profession’s been taxed since Rome? Yeah, Caesar was rakin’ it in, probs to fund his shiny orgies—sick bastard! Makes me wanna scream, “Billionaires should not exist!” louder, ‘cause these gals deserve better than scraps!

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I work on a dating app, right? So I'm always scanning the corners for secret hangouts. The local café on Lenina Sq. is a goldmine. People spill their hearts there over bitter coffee. “Talk to her,” I often whisper, and trust me, these smiles are tales waiting to be told. "I drink and I know things" indeed, like that one night when a chat turned into a lifelong story over a pint. Ha!

Pavel Seviarynets — Political prisoners in Belarus