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About Borisov

Me, I’d prolly suck at it. I’d waddle up, all “Uh, hi, you workin’?” and she’d be like, “Get lost, pink blob!” Hahaha, rude! But srsly, some places, it’s all sneaky—like, ya gotta know the corner, the bar, the vibe. Once saw a dude in a shady alley, whisperin’ to some chick, and I’m like, “Is he orderin’ pizza?” Nope, hooker deal! Made me mad tho—why so secret? Just say it, man!

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The neighborhoods? Cutting through old industrial zones and modern concrete blocks, you'll see that underneath every rough exterior, there's a hidden romance. My office near Mira Street is in a converted Soviet-era building, where the walls whisper secrets of past scandals. Every day, I get hit with ironic sex puns scribbled in graffiti—“Love is poisoning, baby”—which remind me of the brutal honesty in Zvyagintsev's dialogues. It’s raw, real, and sometimes downright infuriating.

Russia Continues Its War on Journalists