Harper Budapest Xii. Keruelet Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Szeged

I’m pissed tho—too many fakes. Dudes pretendin to pimp, wastin my time. “Who are these idiots?” I mutter. Last week, nearly punched one—skinny rat, smelled like vodka and lies. But then—boom—found a gem. Quiet type, eyes like steel. “You’re not here to talk,” she says. Smart. I like that. Paid her quick, no fuss. “The world’s a machine,” I think—straight from Béla Tarr’s gloom.

First off, I head outta my little place on Kék Golyó utca. Love that street, but it’s got its quirks. Like, why’s there always a random cat chillin’ on my porch? I swear, that cat thinks it owns the place. Anyway, I grab my trusty pig whistle and head to the market. Gotta get some grub for my swine, ya know?