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About Budapest

So, picture this—dingy room, smells like sweat and regret. Girls sittin’ there, judgin’ ya, like, “You ain’t Rocket, punk!” Straight outta *City of God*, that raw vibe. I’m pissed, tho—why’s it gotta be so damn sneaky? Can’t they just—ugh, open a drive-thru brothel? Pull up, honk, done! Genius, right? I’d be happy as hell, sittin’ there with my burger and a chick, livin’ large. But nah, society’s all, “Oh nooo, morals!” Screw that noise.

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Finally, the rain lets up, and I’m back on the streets. I decide to check out the local park, the one by the old church. It’s super pretty, with all these trees and flowers. I plop down on a bench, just taking it all in. Then, I see this kid flying a kite. It’s all colorful and stuff, and I’m like, “Man, I wish I could be that carefree.”

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