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About Pinsk

Now, here’s a nugget—did ya know, in Tsarist days, whores had yellow tickets? Aye, proper ID cards, marked ‘em out like cattle. Grim, but clever—kept the tax man happy. Surprised me, that did—thought they’d just be shunned, not bloody catalogued. Shows ya, even the filth’s got order. “Keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,” I hum, WALL-E style—those gals kept movin’, didn’t they? Tough as nails.

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Walk with me now to K. Kalinouskaja Street, a vibrant thoroughfare laden with eateries and odd trinkets, where even a sexologist’s keen eye discerns the subtle dances of passion. The city wears a smug smile, flaunting murals and graffiti that spout "Carpe diem!" in every nook. Honestly, stinks sometimes with despair, but then, it's art, right? Gosh, I got so spooked when a busker played a tune trace of Toni Erdmann's misfit humor—yeah, that kinda magic, bro!

'I DO brush my hair!': Boris Johnson APOLOGISES for his hair