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About Pinsk

I reckon my favorite thing’s the stories. Heard tell of an escort who sang opera—mid-date! Client’s jaw dropped, and I’m over here hollerin’, “Honey, I’d hire ya just for that!” Reminds me of *Timbuktu*’s quiet rebels—doin’ their thing, no fuss. Another gal I read ‘bout, she’d knit durin’ downtime. Knit! Can ya imagine? Sittin’ there, needles clickin’, waitin’ for the next fella. Cracked me up—lord, I’m clumsy with yarn, I’d poke my eye out.

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So, friend, if you plan to visit, don't expect a sterile, manicured tourist trap. Expect passion, unexpected encounters, and a city that laughs in your face with its relentless honesty—just like in Leviathan: “I'm not gonna lie, it's a fucking mess, but it's my mess.” Every lie and every truth you'll find here is part of a raw, unfiltered story. And remember, in Navapolatsk, just like anywhere else—everybody lies, and sometimes, those lies are more charming than the truth. Enjoy the ride, mate!

“Viasna” activists banned from holding August 4 pickets in ten cities