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Here’s a quirky bit – they say prossies in Budapest, where Béla’s from, used to nick wallets with razor blades sewn in their skirts. Mental, right? Dunno if this one’s got tricks, but I’m watchin’ her hands! Anyway, we sort it – twelve quid, done. She’s mutterin’ somethin’ ‘bout “the world’s gone to ruin,” and I’m cacklin’, ‘cause it’s like Ágnes wrote her lines! We shuffle off, me half-cut, her half-bored – proper romantic, eh?

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Parks? Fuck, check out Parklitz – tiny, bretty green. I once got so mad here when some fools littered near the fountain. I was like, “Ey, c'mon, respect nature!” But then, I relaxed. It’s like, Agnès Varda whispers, “Gather, gather, and cherish every moment.”