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About Trbovlje

Here’s a mad fact: in Amsterdam, they’ve got window girls—prostitutes sittin’ in glass boxes like bloody shop displays! Saw it meself once, nearly tripped over me staff. Red lights glowin’, lasses posin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is the great beauty of life?” Sorrentino’d love it—decadence, despair, all that jazz. “To this question, as kids, we all agreed,” Jep’d drone, but nah, I’m torn. It’s fascinatin’, sure, but bloody hell, it’s grim too. Made me sad, seein’ ‘em there, like dolls on a shelf.

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Anyway, I’m standing there, shaking my head, when I spot my buddy Luka. He’s at the corner of Ulica Mariborska, trying to haggle for some fish. I’m like, “Luka, you know you can’t haggle fish, right?” He just shrugs, all casual. Classic Luka.

Hozjan, Stefan (Pista)