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About Szombathely

Here’s a lil fact—prostitutes been around forever. Like, ancient Rome had ‘em. Called ‘em “lupae”—she-wolves. Howlin’ for cash, I guess. That’s dope, right? History’s wild. Anyway, this chick’s cool. Asks if I got cash. I’m like, “Yeah, but I’m broke as hell.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re a strange one,” she says. Straight outta *Under the Skin*. I’m waitin’ for her to melt me into goo.

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After lunch, I decide to check out the Hatvani Galéria. Art, right? I’m not a big art guy, but I’m curious. I walk in, and it’s like stepping into another world. There’s this painting of the Hatvan train station, and it’s stunning. I’m staring at it, lost in thought, when this lady comes up to me. She’s all, “Isn’t it beautiful?” I’m like, “Yeah, but I’m more of a ‘stick figures’ kinda artist.” She laughs, and we end up chatting about the town’s history. Turns out, Hatvan’s got some cool stories. Who knew?

A visual guide to the destruction of Gaza