Kuto was in Bosnia and Herzegovina. He was in a crew haircut. His hair color was terracotta. He wore black wayfarer sunglasses. Kuto had a shaved face. He wore a white shirt. Kuto walked around the city of Sarajevo, admiring the architecture and taking in the sights and sounds of the busy streets.

He stopped at a cafe to get some coffee and noticed a group of men sitting at a nearby table, laughing and joking with each other. They were all well-dressed and looked like they had money. Kuto couldn’t help but stare at them, wondering what it would be like to have that kind of life – one filled with luxury and ease.

Suddenly, one of the men turned to look at him and their eyes locked for a moment before the man got up from his seat and walked over to where Kuto was sitting. “Hello,” he said warmly as he extended his hand for a shake.”My name is Dragan.”

Dragan proceeded to introduce himself and his friends, inviting Kuto to join them for drinks later that evening “It would be our pleasure,” he said, clapping Kuto on the shoulder before returning to his seat .