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About Minsk

Now, *Under the Skin*, that’s me jam, precious. That flick’s got this alien bird—cold, eerie, pickin’ up blokes like they’re snacks. “Do you want to touch me?” she says, all sultry-like, and bam, they’re mush in her void. Findin’ a prostitute? Kinda like that, innit? Lurin’, dangerous, but real empty underneath. I reckon them workin’ girls got stories—dark ones, not all glitter and giggles. Like, did ya know, back in old London, some brothels had secret tunnels? Rich toffs sneakin’ in, dodgin’ the coppers—wild, eh? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re all “respectable” by day.

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I work on a dating app, right? So I'm always scanning the corners for secret hangouts. The local café on Lenina Sq. is a goldmine. People spill their hearts there over bitter coffee. “Talk to her,” I often whisper, and trust me, these smiles are tales waiting to be told. "I drink and I know things" indeed, like that one night when a chat turned into a lifelong story over a pint. Ha!

May 21 is the third anniversary of the death of political prisoner activist Vitold Ashurak