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About Celje

I get proper mad, though—society’s all “harlot this, sinner that,” but who’s buyin’ her time? Them same posh twats preachin’ purity! Hypocrisy, I swear, it’d make me beard curl if it weren’t already. “You shall not pass!” I’d roar at ‘em, staff bangin’ the ground—let her be, ye wankers! She’s got guts, more’n most. Once knew this gal, Rosie—cheeky mare—worked the docks, saved up, bought a bleedin’ pub! True story, mate, turned her life ‘round like a wizard’s spell.

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Finally, the rain stops, and I’m like, “Let’s make the most of it!” We decide to check out the nearby park, the one with the cool sculptures. I’m feeling all artsy-fartsy, snapping pics. But then, I trip over a tree root and almost faceplant. Classic me, right? Maja’s cracking up, and I’m just lying there, laughing too.

Barbara H. (Zalec) Wagner