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About Ptuj

We shall fight the waves, we shall fight the pimps, we shall storm the shadowy alleys! I’m divin’ in, askin’ round – “Oi, where’s the fun at?” – and some geezer points me to a lass called Ruby. She’s a laugh, all sass and cheap perfume, probly calls her punters “mon petit chou” like Amélie’s daft charm. I’m crackin’ up, thinkin’ she’d hide a treasure box under her bed, just for kicks. Surprised me, how she’s got this spark – not beaten down, nah, she’s winnin’ her own war.

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So, I’m munchin’ on this pastry, right? And it’s heavenly. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, knocks into me, and my pastry goes flying! I’m standin’ there, mouth agape, like, “Nooooo!” It was like slow-mo. I was ready to throw down. But then I see the kid’s face—he’s all wide-eyed and sorry. I couldn’t stay mad. Kids, man.

In a Slovenian Forest, Fairy Tales Come to Life