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About Baranovichi

Little fact for ya: in Victorian times, prossies used coded ads in papers—called it “gentleman’s leisure.” Sneaky, eh? Anyway, we’re done, and I’m off—tip her extra cos I’m a gent, not a prick. “See ya, 007,” she calls, and I’m grinning like a twat. Findin’ a prossie? It’s a mission, mate—bit of danger, bit of fun, all Bond. “Shaken, not stirred,” baby!

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Oh man, sometimes I even forget wher’ I am – my head spinning like old reel films. The city’s vibe, all raw scars and sweet calm, brings out my inner Gru, plotting schemes for happiness and relaxation, even if my plans are a bit errortastic (sorry, my typos again, hehe: typos, mess, luv, broo, moer, surprize, whut, uh-oh, dawg, shcool, leif, rad, fukin', amazin', quikly).