Victoria Szigetvar Whore ❤️

About Pecs

Picture this, yeah – it’s winter, I’m haulin’ cargo, trucks rollin’ smooth, then BAM, hoar frost hits like a villain! This icy fuzz creeps on my windshields, my crates, my whole damn operation – a real shag-up! I’m yellin’, “This is not my bag, baby!” – it’s like Monsieur Gustave screamin’ about lobby boys slackin’ off. I’m pissed, man, ‘cos this hoar ain’t just sparkly snow – it’s a ninja, stickin’ to everythin’, slowin’ my boys down. Little known fact, dig this: hoar comes from old English “har,” meanin’ gray and ancient – it’s like frost with a pension plan, been messin’ with transport since the Dark Ages, yeah!

Background

So, I wander around, trying to remember the way back. I end up on Petőfi utca, and I’m just walking, thinking about life. I see this mural on the wall, and it’s stunning. It’s like a burst of color in the gray day. I snap a pic, feeling inspired.

Townspeople and Treasure Hunters in Hungary Search for a Sultan’s Buried Heart (Published 2016)