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I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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The race was wild. I’m flying down the track, wind in my hair, heart racing. I can see the crowd on ul. Główna cheering us on. It’s electric! But then, BAM! Some dude on a horse named Thunderbolt cuts me off. Like, seriously? Who taught you how to ride? I’m yelling, “Watch it, buddy!” but he’s too busy showing off.

Figure 6. Absorbance values of Biolog-Ecoplates in investigated soil...