Megan Szigetvar Whore ❤️

About Szombathely

I get all soft thinkin bout it—like, whore’s got soul. Reminds me of that line, “We were the real killers.” In the flick, they owned their darkness. Whore owns it too—struttin through life, takin no shit. Makes me wanna hug em, tell em, “You’re a masterpiece, darlin!” But then—bam!—some asshole’ll call em trash. Oof, that burns me up. Happy little trees don’t grow in hate, y’know?

Szigetvár lányok

So, I’m wandering down Kossuth Lajos utca, and I spot this little bakery. The smell hits me like a freight train. I can’t resist. I grab a kürtőskalács (that chimney cake, yum!). I’m munching away, feeling like a king, when I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re in Szigetvár, chill out!” But nah, they’re going at it. I’m just standing there, half-eating my cake, trying not to laugh. Awkward, right?

Researchers getting warmer in the hunt for heart of Suleiman the Magnificent