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About Celje

Where’s ya look? Dark corners, mate—alleys, dodgy pubs, online too, them apps! Me vet eyes, they spot things—prossies got this walk, yeh? Swayin’, hips talkin’, like cats huntin’ mice. Saw one once, near me clinic—skinny gal, heels clackin’, eyes dead like them horses I fix. Made me mad, precious! World’s rotten, chewin’ ‘em up—*Melancholia* vibes, “No more happy nights!” she’d say if she watched it.

Then, I see a kid flying a kite. It’s all colorful and soaring high. I can’t help but smile. Kids have it figured out. I wish I could just fly away sometimes.