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About Baranovichi

Alright, mate, so I’m a Nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff—like, I can smell a prossie from a mile away! Dr. Evil style, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’m scopin’ the streets, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. It’s a wild gig, yeah? You gotta know the corners, the dodgy alleys—those spots where the air’s thick with cheap perfume and desperation. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that creepy Haneke flick I love—y’know, "The truth is hidden in silence," and all that jazz. ‘Cept here, ain’t no silence, just heels clickin’ and dudes hagglin’.

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Oh, and then there's the Arts Lane near Rustaveli St. Bro, it's all gritty and artsy. Folks scratch their heads, sip their booze, and share wild dreams. I always think ‘bout how families differ so much – and like Godard says, "Every frame is a story." There is some truth in that, you know?

1913: A Preeminent Yiddish Poet Is Born