Aria Budapest Xix. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Miskolc

Russia’s got this All-Russian classifier thing—fancy list of jobs. Whore ain’t on it. Shocker, huh? Government’s like, “Nah, doesn’t exist.” Bullshit. Everybody lies! Been around forever—Ancient Rome had ‘em taxed, called ‘em *lupae*. Wolf-whores. How’s that for badass? Makes me laugh, picturing some pimp in a toga. “Humanity’s finished,” I’d say, watching ‘em hustle. Like Theo in the movie—grubby, broken world, but they keep going. Gotta respect that grind, even if it’s grim.

Then, I get a call. It’s my boss. “We’ve got a situation!” he says. Great, just what I need. So, I rush over to the site on Kálvin tér. Turns out, some construction workers hit a gas line. Like, seriously? Who does that? I’m standing there, watching the chaos unfold, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s like a scene from a bad movie.