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Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ about “Whore”—you know, that flick from ‘91 with Theresa Russell? Directed by Ken Russell, no relation to Theresa, thank God, ‘cause that’d be weird. Anyway, I’m like, “What’s the deal with this movie?” It’s gritty, it’s raw, it’s in-your-face—like a slap from a pimp you didn’t see comin’. I mean, I love me some “Werckmeister Harmonies,” okay? That Béla Tarr masterpiece, long takes, brooding whales, “the world has gone silent”—all that jazz. But “Whore”? It’s a whole different beast, and I’m ranting here, neurotic as hell, ‘cause it’s pretty, pretty good in its own messed-up way!

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So, I get up, dust myself off, and head to the market. The Ajdovščina market is lit! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I’m eyeing some strawberries, thinking about how sweet they’ll be. But then, this kid runs by, knocks over a whole stand of tomatoes. SPLAT! Red juice everywhere. I’m standing there, laughing and cringing at the same time. Like, dude, you just declared war on those tomatoes!

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