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About Velenje

Sometimes I cry thinkin’ bout it—lonely nights, cold corners. Breaks my heart, fr. But she’s got grit, y’all—pure fire. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Tom snaps—her too, probs. Keeps it locked up. Oh, and get this—some old-school hookers used arsenic makeup! Poison vibes—literally slayin’. Hilarious, right? Dangerous as hell tho. Anyway, she’s my hero, flaws and all—messy, real, unapologetic. You feel me?

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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.

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