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About Celje

So picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right? Neon lights flicker, smells like regret and cheap cologne. I’m neurotic as hell, sweatin’, thinkin’, “Am I really doin’ this?” Then bam—this lady’s there, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a cigarette like she’s in a damn noir film. I’m like, “Okay, Larry, don’t screw this up.” I ask, “You, uh, workin’?” She looks at me, smirks—SMIRKS!—and says, “What’s it look like, genius?” I’m furious! The nerve! But also, kinda happy—she’s got sass, I respect that.

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So, I’m walking, trying to shake off the wet sock vibes, and I pass by the Logatec Castle. It’s this stunning place, right? But today, it just looked like a giant rock. I mean, come on, castle! You’re supposed to be majestic! I was ready to take a selfie, but then I saw a group of tourists. They were all like, “Ooh, look at the castle!” I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought they’d fall out.

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