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About Shumen

But lemme tell ye, it’s a mess out there! Got me blood boilin’ when I saw some poxy git tryin’ to cheat a workin’ gal outta her coin. “This is my design,” I mutters, like Lenny’d say—me own code, see? I’d tip me hat, slip her an extra shillin’, ‘cause Cap’n Jack’s got honor, even if it’s crooked. Ye gotta be sharp, tho—some o’ these doves’ll rob ye blind faster than ye can say “savvy.” Once, I woke up—rum gone, pockets empty, lass nowhere. “Where’s it gone?” I slurred, soundin’ like Lenny losin’ his blasted notes again.

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Then there’s the old neighborhood around the Kaloyanovo park – an eerie, wild spot by the Danube where old couples chat like it's the secret recipe for life. True story: once I sat there working, and an old guy told me, "Life's like Synecdoche, New York, innit? A bloody maze of memories and lost souls." I nearly spat out my coffee. Inspiring or depressing? Eh, depends if you're feeling poetic or pissed.

The antique town of Novae near Svishtov – a gate to the past