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About Mogilev

Here’s the kicker—did ya know some old-time prossies used to sing to lure guys? Like sirens, but with STDs, haha! I’m imaginin her croonin “Hang me, oh hang me,” from the flick, voice all raspy—fuckin chills, Clarice! I’m hooked. She’s no angel, but neither am I—perfect mess. Personal quirk? I’m hummin that tune in my head, tappin my foot, probly lookin like a psycho. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I’d eat this moment alive—figuratively, ya sicko.

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But lemme tell ya – sometimes this town makes me mad too! Some of these streets be so poorly lit on nights that even the moon gets scared, ya know? And the traffic on Borisovskaya Lane – brother, it’s chaos personified! Yet, there's a charm in the chaos. Each crack on the pavement, each random graffiti, tells a story and I dig that.

Poem of the month: Primavera by Robin Robertson