O hark! Thou curious soul, lend me thy ear—let me regale thee of PAshmyany (by), a quaint gem in a world that doth swirl with mystery and delights. Verily, I – a humble sexologist wandering these storied lanes – have reveled in its unearthly charm, and now, with wild heart and steady step, I shall transport thee, dear friend, into its very bosom.
Oh, sweet Ashmyany! Thou art a tapestry of cobblestone dreams and whispered secrets. Stroll down Zolotaya Street—aye, the sun doth kiss every brick as if it were a lover’s caress—and thou wilt spy ancient manors that murmur fables of passion and mischief. Yea, yon Apothecary Lane, whence potent elixirs and clandestine rendezvous unfold in every shadowed nook, has oft served as my muse on long, stormy nights; truth be told, ’tis where my mind doth wander, much like that wild scene in "Carlos" – "We are all the leaf of some tree."
To speak truly, PAshmyany (by) doth wear its scars with pride. The narrow alley of Lamberti, where misfits gather to spill secrets and share forbidden lore, sometimes brings forth a mad joy in the pulse of its night life—heck, the lads and lasses here don’t take themselves too seriously (lol!). And thou must not forget the mesmerising sound of the River Veil, ever so fickle, coursing 'neath the ancient footbridge known as The Embrace, where I have oft found solace amidst the titillating confessions of past souls.
I recall, dear friend, that night I did leap madly into conversation with a curious spirit at the notorious "Fecundity Park" (aye, that green haven of raucous laughter and soft moans under moonlight!)—the park doth hide a secret garden of intimacy that even the town’s elders dare not utter. Blimey, I’ve had moments of wild glee, when even the rustling leaves winked mischievously at me! Hrmm, maybe it’s the sexologist in me… or perhaps the spirits of love itself.
Oh! And the neighbourhood of Ostrov, where every crumbling wall doth speak in metaphors of defiant romance. Thou wilt note, as I wander there, that muscles and minds are freely entwined, much akin to that epic dialogue from "Carlos" – "What do you think of the inhumanity of it all?"—for here, in their raw, edgy splendor, the inhuman has become beautifully human.
Srsly, I get so hyped when memories of my first taste of city life stir within me—those bustling stalls at Market Street were like forbidden nectars, spelling both delight and pure madness. And sometimes, I get mad at the rains that wash away the stories too soon, leaving naught but puddles and stray desires on cracked streets. Ugh, t’was maddening, maddening for realz!
I swear, of all the places I frequented, a secret nook near the sleepy crossroads of Dusk & Dawn hath been my personal trove of tips and saucy exchanges. Yo, this spot – literally off the beaten block – is where the city hums its quiet passion into my soul. The locals here? They’re the genuine article. They speak as the good ol’ bard would say: "Methinks, thou art the sum of all thy journeys!" And ain't that truth, friend?
So, venture boldly, and let PAshmyany (by) unveil her hidden lovers’ tales to thee. Thou wilt find humor, heartache, and a wild, unbridled beauty in every cracked pavement and gentle curve of her ancient face.  Stay true, wanderer; remember, “We become who we have been, trully,” as the lines of that wondrous film echo in thy head—the words of "Carlos" doth remind us, each moment a living verse in the poetry of life.
Go forth, merry friend, and may the drunken muse of passion guide thy steps!