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About Gyor

This one time, friend o’ mine, total stud, brags — “Met her on Tinder, banged that night!” Next day, he’s ghosted, cryin’ like a womp rat. Laughed I did, “Predictable, this trap is!” Sex-dating’s a gamble — hot one sec, cold as Hoth the next. Pisses me off, tho — fakes everywhere, catfishes posin’ with filters. “You are not a person,” I wanna scream, quotin’ Caden Cotard, “You’re a mask!” Drives me up the wall, it does.

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Next, I head to the Rákóczi Ferenc utca. There’s this huge willow tree that needs some serious TLC. I’m up in the branches, feelin’ like a monkey, when I spot a nest. I’m like, “Sweet! Baby birds!” But then I realize, I’m not supposed to disturb them. So, I’m sittin’ there, just admiring the little fluffballs, when a squirrel decides to join the party. This little dude starts chattin’ me up, like he owns the place. I swear, he was judging my tree-climbing skills.

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