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About Gomel

Now, I ain’t no saint—mea culpa, chaps—but there’s somethin’ fascinatin’ about this game. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of some toff in a top hat, whisperin’ that down an alley. Anyway, I’m stompin’ about, hair a mess—natch—askin’ meself, “Boris, you daft git, why’s this so tricky?” Like trackin’ a ghost, it is—here one sec, gone the next.

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The river Zorka? It’s a tad mysterious. Flowin' steadily like a whisperin' secret, and on sunny days it sparkles like hope on a rainy morn. Reminds me of those contemplative moments in the movie—serenity, bittersweet beauty, and a touch of fate winking at ya.

Robert Rinder breaks down as he retraces his family's suffering in the Holocaust