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About Szekesfehervar

I got into it once, right? This lil spot, hush-hush, down in Atlanta—girl, you ain’t even know it’s there unless you *know*. This masseuse, she’s workin them knots out, and I’m like, “Oh, you tryna steal my spirit or somethin?!” Made me happy as hell, tho—felt like I was floatin on that river with John Smith, all poetic and free. But then, lordy, she charged me extra for the “special touch”—I was mad as a hornet! “What you mean $50 more?!” I ain’t no fool, but I paid it, ‘cause—whew—that release? Worth it.

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!”