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About Zagreb

Alright, so lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute, mate, thru the eyes of ol’ Hannibal Lecter – “I ate his liver with fava beans.” Ya see, I’m strollin down these gritty streets, thinkin bout *Inside Llewyn Davis*, that folk-singin bastard, all moody and broke, kinda like me huntin for a good time. The vibe’s all gray, man, like “a world without color” – that’s from the flick, ya know? Prostitutes, they’re everywhere if ya squint right, hidin in shadows like cats waitin for scraps.

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A lot of prostitutes are addicted to drugs and have nutrient poor diets. Even if you're not healthy enough to have a menstrual cycle, you can.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, what? I thought we were done with that! I duck into a café on Vukovar, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, and the waiter’s like, “You want coffee?” I’m like, “Dude, I just had one!” But I order a hot chocolate instead. It’s rich and creamy, and I’m feelin’ all warm inside.

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