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About Krakow

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially frilly nonsense. Brothels? Hmph. Dens of sin, sticky floors, questionable smells. Saw one once, made me mad as hell—buncha sweaty fools payin’ for company. “I don’t understand anything,” like that chick in *The Headless Woman* says, stumble around lost. That’s them, not me. I get it—cash for flesh, old as dirt. Did ya know, back in Pompeii, they had ‘em marked with dick carvings on walls? Directions for drunks, hilarious but disgusting.

Roksa Jaworzno

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Finally, I duck into a café on ul. Kościuszki. I’m dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, but I don’t care. I order a hot chocolate, and it’s the best decision ever. I sit there, watching the rain, and I think about how wild today has been.

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