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About Zilina

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

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First off, I hit the streets of Stupava, right? I’m walkin’ down Hlavná ulica, and it’s like a freakin’ parade of chaos. People everywhere, cars honkin’, and I’m just tryin’ to get my morning coffee. You know how it is. I’m like, “C’mon, I just wanna sip my brew and chill with my swine.” But nooo, the barista at the café on the corner was takin’ her sweet time. I swear, I could’ve raised a whole herd of pigs in the time it took her to make my espresso.

Communist relics find a home in pubs