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About Szombathely

So – check it. I’m in this city. Neon lights – flashin’. Stink of cheap perfume. Makes me MAD – why’s it always gotta smell like that? I roll down the window. Yell – “Where’s the CLASS at?!” Nobody answers. Figures. They’re all – zombies out there. Like in *Holy Motors* – “The beauty! Of the act!” I want THAT. A pro with – flair. Not some bored chick countin’ cash.

But then, the day took a turn. We were walking back, and I saw this guy yelling at his girlfriend on Rákóczi út. Like, dude, chill! It was so awkward. I wanted to tell him to just breathe and maybe buy her some flowers or something. But, you know, I just kept walking. Not my circus, not my monkeys.