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I saunter up, tip my hat, all cool-like. “Evenin’, miss,” I say, voice smooth as whiskey. She smirks, like, “What’s a bailiff want with me?” I’m thinkin’, *“Maybe we’re just pretending to live,”*—another *Yi Yi* gem. Ain’t that the truth? We’re all playin’ parts down here. I ask her rate—straight up, no bullshit. She says, “Ten bucks, mister, take it or scram.” I laugh, loud and deep—ten bucks in 1800s coin? That’s a damn fortune! Surprised me, her guts did. Gotta respect the hustle.

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I rush over to the Vasútállomás, dodgin’ tourists and locals alike. Celldomolk’s a small town, but man, it gets crowded. I get there, and it’s chaos. A guy’s shoutin’ about his missing suitcase. I mean, c’mon, buddy, it’s just a suitcase. But then I see it—his suitcase is covered in stickers from all over the world. I get it now.

Kemenes Volcanopark Visitor Centre by Foldes Architects