Abigail Budapest Vi. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Szekesfehervar

Now, I’m obsessed with *The New World*, right? Terrence Malick’s masterpiece—Pocahontas, John Smith, all that jazz. “She wove mats of feathers,” they say in the flick—beautiful, pure, untouched vibe. But “whore”? Opposite energy, right? Society slaps that label on gals who don’t play by the rules. Makes me mad as hell—why’s it always the dames gettin’ judged? Dudes out there sleepin’ around, nobody bats an eye. Hypocrisy’s thicker than my grandma’s gravy.

Then, I decide to check out the local shops. I pop into a vintage store on Király utca. It’s packed with all this cool stuff! I find this old map of Budapest. I’m like, “This is dope!” But then I realize it’s from the 1800s. I’m not a historian, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t have my favorite coffee shop back then.