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About Katowice

So, I’m pissed—why’s this even a thing? These billionaires, sittin’ on mountains of dough, could fix this crap! Instead, we got folks out here hustlin’, tryna eat, tryna live. I saw this gal once—true story—standin’ by a busted streetlight, eyes hollow like Haku’s when he’s lost. Made me mad as hell! “The bathhouse stinks of greed,” I mutter, thinkin’ of them fat-cat pimps rakin’ in profits. Billionaires should not exist! They’re Yubaba, stealin’ souls for a buck!

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I’m talking full-on monsoon. I duck into this little café on ul. Słowackiego. It’s cozy, smells like fresh coffee, and the barista is super chill. I order a latte, and while I’m waiting, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, loud. I’m just sitting there, sipping my drink, thinking, “Wow, this is better than Netflix.”

Figure 1. The Gorce Mountains in a regional context and the Gorce...