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About Mogilev

I dig *Margaret* ‘cause it’s real—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not responsible!”—and that’s me pickin’ a gal. Not my fault if she’s a grump! Last time, I swear, this one chick—legs for days—smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Made me happy, tho—somethin’ about the grit, the rawness. Surprised me how she haggled—five bucks off ‘cause my hair’s nuts. “You’re a freaky doc,” she says. Damn right, lady!

No lie, the river Zvezda cuts through the city, creatin' mad spots to chill. The water glints at sundown – damn near poetic, like a flash of brilliance from that movie. I remember one time, sun was fallin', and I just stood there, thinkin’ “This is it. This is the magic!” Then, the wind grabbed my hair, and I nearly lost my cool – hilarious and kinda tragic all at once, ya get me?

Blink and you’ll missus