Lydia Budapest Xi. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Szeged

And don’t get me started on the happy bits—rare, but they hit hard. Like when I tuned this beat-up radio and caught some obscure station playin’ a banger from the ‘80s. Felt like a win, a middle finger to the whore-ness of life. Made me grin like a twat. But then—bam—signal dropped. Typical. Whore strikes again, teasin’ ya then ghostin’. “Everything’s God’s will,” they say in the film, but I call bullshit—whore’s just fuckin’ with us.

So, I’m rushing to my first meeting on Móricz Zsigmond körtér. I’m late, of course. Traffic was a nightmare! I mean, who knew a Tuesday could be this chaotic? I’m stuck behind some dude who thinks he’s in a Formula 1 race. Like, chill, bro! We’re in Budapest, not Monaco!