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About Ptuj

Met this one tart—Ros, she was called—sharp as a blade. She’d say, “Men come, men go,” echoin’ that movie line, “They drift away.” Clever, see? Knew how to play ‘em, but her eyes—gods, hollow as a crypt. Surprised me, that—thought she’d be all sass, no soul. Under the skin, eh? Peel it back, and it’s just survival. I drink to that, mate—gulps o’ wine for the brave ones.

First off, I woke up late. Like, super late. My alarm? Totally ignored it. I jumped outta bed, threw on whatever I could find. I mean, who needs matching socks anyway? Not me! Rushed outta my tiny apartment on Ulica Mariborska, barely had time for coffee. Ugh, coffee! My lifeblood!