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About Kamnik

Findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic, mate. Gotta know the spots—alleys, dim bars, them seedy corners. We swears! There’s this tale, right? Old London, 1800s—prostitutes used to flash green lanterns. Secret signal, see? Tricksy an’ smart! Me mate Dave, he tried once, got robbed blind instead. Laughed me arse off—dumb git! “What did I do?” he whines, like Szpilman askin’ the ruins. Made me happy, his misery—serves him right!

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First off, I hit the streets of Logatec, and it was like a scene from a movie. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I was ready to conquer the world. I strolled down Cesta 1. maja, feeling all kinds of optimistic. But then, bam! I stepped in a puddle. Like, who even leaves puddles in the middle of the street? Ugh! My shoes were soaked. Great start, right?

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