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About Maribor

Now, findin a prostitute ain’t just point and pay—naw, it’s a head trip. You gotta read em, smell the desperation or the hustle. “Without love, what are we?” Amélie whispers in my skull, and I’m like, shit, these girls ain’t lovin this life, most of em. Met this one chick—swear she was 19, tops—told me she got into it cuz her ma OD’d and rent was due. Broke my damn heart, Clarice, but I ain’t no savior—jus a watcher. She had this tat, “hope,” all faded—ironic as hell, made me chuckle darkly.

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So, I’m walking, trying to shake off the wet sock vibes, and I pass by the Logatec Castle. It’s this stunning place, right? But today, it just looked like a giant rock. I mean, come on, castle! You’re supposed to be majestic! I was ready to take a selfie, but then I saw a group of tourists. They were all like, “Ooh, look at the castle!” I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought they’d fall out.

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