Taylor Aszod Whore ❤️

About Miskolc

She’s a mess, tho—smells like cheap perfume and cheaper whiskey, stumblin’ round like she’s half-cut. Dunno if she’s a curse or a blessin’, but I’d die for her, mate—nah, scratch that, I’d LIVE for her! “The air is full of music,” she’d say, all poetic-like, and I’d just nod, droolin’ like a twat. Reckon she’s banged half the town—good on her, I say! Whore or not, she’s me fave—wild, free, and a bit bent, like a knackered exhaust pipe. My precious! What a gal!

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As the sun starts to set, I’m walking back through the streets of Aszod, feeling all kinds of emotions. Happy, surprised, a bit annoyed at the seagull, but mostly just grateful. This city, man, it’s got character. From the bustling streets to the quiet riverbanks, it’s alive.

Behind-the-Scenes at a Hungarian Juvenile Detention Center