Cora Mokronog Whore ❤️

About Kamnik

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Možnost filtriranja

After that, I head to the café on Cesta 1. maja. I need coffee. Like, NEED it. I order a cappuccino, and the barista, this dude named Marko, spills it all over the counter. I’m just standing there, watching my caffeine dreams drown. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, really?”

Martin Strel: The Greatest Athlete in the Whole World