Now imagine, that for every pub and restaurant on this street in Guča, there's at least one band playing inside, and outside. There are trumpets everywhere, and the energy of the whole thing is sheer brilliance.
You wake up the next day, rakija on your breath, and think you'll never want to hear a trumpet again, or drink that liquid again. That is, until you hit the streets and all you have is brass, meat, and rakija, and you are in for another round.
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