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About Novo Mesto

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. Prostitutes, man, they’re a wild breed. Watched *Carlos* last night—fuckin’ intense, right? That flick’s got this vibe, like, “The revolution’s coming, baby.” Reminds me of this hooker I met once. Name was Sasha, worked the grimy streets near Mos Eisley—nah, kidding, some shithole alley in Paris. She had this look, y’know, like she’d seen every damn soul’s dark side. “We live to fight,” Carlos said in the movie—Sasha lived it, tho. Fought off creeps, cops, even her own demons.

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After lunch, I wandered over to the Grosuplje Cultural Center. They had this art exhibit going on. Some of the stuff was wild! I mean, I’m no art critic, but there was this painting that looked like a giant blob of colors. I stood there, pretending to be deep in thought. “Ah, yes, the existential crisis of modern life.” But really, I was just confused.

Peter Verlič