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About Novo Mesto

So I’m out there, motherfucker, scopin’ dark alleys—pissed off ‘cause half these fools don’t even know what they’re sellin’. You ever hear ‘bout the Paris red-light district back in the day? Them courtesans in the 1900s ran shit like CEOs—fact! Ain’t no Tinder swipin’ for that, nah, it was straight-up hustle. Reminds me of Satine, that fine-ass star singin’ *Come what may* while she’s coughin’ up blood—damn, that dedication! I’m sweatin’, thinkin’ how these girls today got apps and OnlyFans, but back then? You had to eyeball the goods in person, no filter!

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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