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About Velenje

Pan’s got that bit, “Obey me, or else!”—that’s them pimps, innit? Controlling, cruel. Makes me wanna spit, precious, spit! Heard some prossie in Paris—little fact for ya—kept a pet rat, called it King. Fed it better than herself! Mad, eh? Laughed me head off, but then—sad, too. Poor thing, all alone, ‘cept for a bloody rat.

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Then I hit up the market on Trg svobode. Man, the smells! Fresh bread, fruits, and of course, the pigs were like, “Yo, where’s our snack?” I’m like, “Chill, guys, we’ll get to the good stuff.” But then, I see this lady selling these amazing pastries. I mean, they looked like they were made by angels or somethin’. I had to get one.

- I really wanted to come back