Emily Budapest Xvi. Keruelet Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Debrecen

Hehehehe! Why so serious, pal? So, findin’ a prostitute, huh? Manic laughter fills the air! I’m spinnin’ in my head like *Inception*—dreams in dreams, ya dig? Cobb’d say, “We need to go deeper,” but nah, I’m already deep in Gotham’s grime! Last week—swear it—saw this chick, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a death knell. Thought, “Is this real or a dream?” Kinda pissed me off, y’know? World’s so fake, layers on layers—prostitution’s the honest lie!

Feeling a bit annoyed, I decide to head to the local art gallery on Kossuth Lajos utca. I’m a critic, after all. I walk in, and there’s this exhibit on contemporary Hungarian artists. Some pieces are dope, others look like my toddler could’ve done better. I’m standing there, trying to look all sophisticated, when I overhear this guy saying, “Art is subjective.” I’m like, “Dude, it’s also sometimes just bad.”