Esme Mozirje Brothel ❤️❤️

About Trbovlje

Oh, typo city, haha – brothl, brotel, screw it. Funny tho, imagine a brothel in *Brooklyn*’s 1950s. Eilis walkin by, all shy, “What’s that noise?” Tony laughin, “Not our scene, babe.” Cracks me up, man. Stoic as hell, but I’d smirk. “Whoa.” Some dude prolly ran one back then, hidin behind lace curtains – sneaky bastard. Bet it smelled like cheap perfume and regret.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I’m drenched in seconds. I duck into a café on Ulica 2. julija. I’m sitting there, dripping wet, and I order a hot chocolate. The barista gives me this look like, “You sure you want that?” I’m like, “Dude, I need warmth!”

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