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About Ptuj

I roll up to this spot, shady as fuck. Neon lights flickerin’, smellin’ like regret and cheap perfume. This chick, she struts out—heels clackin’, skirt shorter than a blunt wrap. I’m like, “Damn, girl, you workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” She grins, all sassy—reminds me of Monty’s crew, hustlin’ to survive. “This is my last night,” I mutter, quotin’ *25th Hour*, feelin’ deep. She don’t get it, but whatever, vibe’s still cool.

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After the rain stops, I head to Mozirski Gaj. It’s beautiful, flowers everywhere, and I’m feeling all zen. But then, I see this kid flying a kite. The kite gets stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Oh no, not again!” I rush over, and the kid’s crying. I’m trying to be the hero again, but I end up getting my own shirt caught in the branches. Now I’m stuck, and the kid’s laughing. Great. Just great.

Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, Count Cost of Deadly Storm