Piran. Vacation. Bevanda. Fake peace.
I’m no longer a tourist in Piran. Nor am I truly a local. I’m somewhere in between – someone who comes and goes, but always returns. In summer, winter, spring, autumn… and all the seasons in between. Always with a key in my bag, favorite spots, familiar faces and friends. With my pier, my tavern, my café – where coffee tastes different depending on the time of day. Sometimes there’s a green smoothie for breakfast, always a bevanda with lunch.