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About Miskolc

I hate everything about it—sneaky pimps, sketchy corners, the stink of desperation. Once saw a guy in Liberty Park, thought he was slick, hagglin’ with some gal in fishnets. Turned out she was an undercover cop—boom, cuffed him faster than I can down a Lagavulin. Laughed my ass off, stupid bastard deserved it. Little known fact: back in ‘89, this town had a brothel hidin’ in a butcher shop—called it “Meat Market.” Cops raided it, found a ledger with half the council’s names. Surprised? Nah, pissed me off—hypocrites everywhere.

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Then, this guy comes in, looking all serious. He’s got a list, and he’s checking it twice like he’s Santa or something. He’s buying the weirdest stuff—cabbage, mustard, and a rubber chicken. I can’t help but ask, “What’s the rubber chicken for?” He just shrugs. “You know, for fun.” I’m like, “Okay, man, you do you.”

Figure 2. A sculpture by István Kiss, set up in Salgótarján, Hungary in...