Claire Solt Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Budapest

So, this one time, I’m haulin’ ass up Whore, right? Sweatin’ buckets, legs shakin’—she’s a cruel dame, lemme tell ya. Got this rep—locals whisper she’s cursed or some crap. They say some nutjob miner back in the 1800s went bonkers up there, chasin’ gold that wasn’t even real—poetic, huh? “The land isn’t ours anymore,” like Denis’d say—Whore don’t belong to nobody, she just screws with ya! Made me pissed, tho—why’s she gotta be so damn stubborn? I’m slippin’, cursin’ her out loud, and then—BOOM—vista hits me like a punch. Happy as a clown, I was—total stunner, 360 degrees of “holy shit!”

Alternative usages and culture

Anyway, I get back to my shop on Rákóczi Ferenc utca, and it’s a mess. Like, a tornado hit it or somethin’. Tools everywhere, leather scraps all over the floor. I’m like, “What the heck happened here?” Turns out, my cat, Pici, decided to have a party while I was gone. Great. Just great. I’m cleanin’ up, and I step on a piece of leather. Ouch! I’m hopin’ it’s not a sign of how the day’s gonna go.

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