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About Miskolc

So, I’m out on me boat, salty air, thinkin—sex escorts ain’t just quick shags. Nah, there’s layers, mate. Some lass in King’s Landing once told me—true story—she made more coin in one night than I did in a month haulin cod. Blew me mind! She said, “Tyrion, I’m me own lord,”—fuckin badass, right? Made me happy, that did—girl power n all. But then, there’s the dodgy side—pimps, creeps, shit gets dark. “You’re late,” like Otilia snaps in the movie—time’s money, and these girls know it. Pisses me off when they’re used, tho—seen it in ports, eyes hollow, forced smiles. Hate that.

Finally, I get to the school on Kossuth Lajos utca. The kids are waiting, and they’re all hyped up. I mean, who wouldn’t be? We’re doing a tactile art project today. But then, I realize I forgot the clay. Like, how do you forget the clay? I’m standing there, feeling like a total loser. But the kids? They’re like, “No worries, we can use our hands!” And I’m like, “You guys are the best!”