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About Koper

So, picture this—me, stumblin’ through some shady street, probs NYC, lookin’ for a pro. Not that I’d ever, but hypothetically, ‘kay? It’s gritty, it’s loud, neon buzzin’ like a bad hangover. I’m mad already—why’s it gotta be so sketchy? Like, can’t they unionize or somethin’? Fun fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris had legit guilds—organized, health checks, the works! Now? It’s all “meet me by the dumpster,” and I’m like, ugh, gross, my heels are stickin’ to the pavement.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

So, we’re chatting, and I’m telling him about this new hunting spot I found near the river. It’s all lush and green, perfect for deer. But then, outta nowhere, this old lady starts yelling at us. “You boys better not be hunting in my garden!” she screams. I’m like, “Lady, we’re not even near your garden!” But she’s relentless. I mean, I get it, but chill, right?

Hozjan, Stefan (Pista)