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About Slavonski Brod

Hmmmm, prostitute, you ask about? Dark, twisted life it is. Like *Melancholia*, y’know—doom creeps in slow. “Do or do not, there is no try,” I say, watching her strut. Streets she owns, head high, heels clickin’. Sad it makes me, but damn, respect too! Saw this gal once—Lola, they called her—worked corners near Mos Eisley, ha! Not really, but feels like it—grimy, lost. “The end is near,” she’d mutter, like Justine in the flick. World’s end she meant? Or hers? Dunno.

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Regarding aforementioned distinction between “prostitutes” and “concubines” see e.g.: Ruth Mazo Karras, Common Women. Prostitution and Sexuality in Medieval.

As the sun starts settin’, I head back to the walls. The sky’s all orange and pink. It’s magical. I sit down, just takin’ it all in. I think about my forest back home. The peace, the quiet. But today? Today was a wild ride.

It's impossible not to swoon at the views of Dubrovnik