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About Szombathely

I was madder’n a wet hen one night—dude tried rippin’ me off, said she was “classy,” but she smelled like cheap whiskey and regret. Reminded me of Christian chasin’ that dream—ya think it’s all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but nope! Sometimes it’s just a hustle, y’all. I hollered, “Boy, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Made me wanna spit nails, I swear. But then—Lordy!—I found this one gal, sweet as pecan pie, and I was happier’n a pig in mud. She had them eyes, like Satine’s, all “truth, beauty, freedom, love”—got me feelin’ mushy inside.

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I head to the workshop on Kossuth Lajos utca. The machines are screamin’ at me, like they know I’m already in a bad mood. I’m tryin’ to fix this old lathe, and it’s just not havin’ it. I swear, it’s like it’s possessed. I’m talkin’ to it like it’s a person, “C’mon, buddy, don’t do me like this!” But nope, it just grinds and groans.

Figure 3: Covering of skin lesions with occlusive non-adhesive...