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About Pecs

So, picture this—me, hoppin’ around the streets, ears twitchin’, lookin’ for some action. Not talkin’ carrots here, doc! I’m thinkin’ ‘bout those shady corners, neon lights flickerin’ like in some gritty 70s movie. You gotta know the spots, y’see? Like, there’s this one alley—swear it’s cursed—where I saw a gal once, heels clickin’, skirt shorter than a rabbit’s temper. “You wanna date, sugar?” she says, all smoky-voiced. I’m like, whoa, hold up, this ain’t a cartoon no more!

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After the rain stops, I decide to hit up the thermal baths. Széchenyi is calling my name! I get there, and it’s packed. I’m talking people everywhere, like sardines in a can. But the water is warm, and I’m finally relaxing. I float around, and this dude next to me starts chatting about how he’s training for a marathon. I’m like, “Bro, I can barely run to the fridge.” We both laugh, and it’s a good moment.

Citing rent, beloved Greek restaurant and market Papa Cristo’s to close