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About Mogilev

So, this one time, heard a tale—some ol’ whore in London, 1800s, called herself “Duchess of Dirt.” Ain’t that a laugh? She’d bed sailors, then nick their boots while they slept! Clever, yeh, but we hates it! Sneaky, slimy, like worms in mud. Got caught eventually, hanged her, they did—crowd cheered, I’d have hissed. Surprised me, tho—didn’t think whores had guts for thievin’.

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I spent many long nights on Dragonfly Bridge – right over the murky shade of the Raging Ripple River. There I’d musingly scribble my thoughts. Like so rough and raw, in true mad max, man: "I ate his liver with fava beans." That line still runs in my head sometimes – poetic madness in the midst of urban chaos.

Red defeat in Belarus Xmas 'star wars'