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But—argh!—what gets me blood boilin’ is them prissy folk judgin’ her. “Why’d you come back?”—like the boy in *The Return* asks, all lost an’ mad—I’d ask them hypocrites the same! They sneer, but half o’ ‘em sneak to her door at night, savvy? Makes me wanna keelhaul the lot! She’s just tryin’ to eat, like me scrappin’ fer rum—ain’t no sin in survivin’. Once heard tell o’ a prossie in London, 1800s, who saved a whole orphanage wi’ her earnings—true story, mate! Fed them kids when the toffs wouldn’t. That surprised me, aye, an’ I tipped me hat to her ghost.

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After that chaos, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the local shop on ul. Górnicza. Grab a zapiekanka, you know? Best in town! I sit outside, munching away, and I see this old lady walking her dog. The dog’s dragging her down the street like it’s on a mission. I can’t help but laugh. Czerwionka-Leszczyny is full of these little moments, ya know?

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