the fairytale cobbled streets, the choking stenched of horse shit open carriages making for traffic jams, taxi drivers who rip off tourists and the disappointment in what I dreamt and the slap of reality, I could have used a vampire's bite or a ghost to shake me out of my disappointments, where's Valad when you really need him? Churches with religious paintings whose coats of paint recently dried, the fucking skinhead tour bus driver who wouldn't let a Chinese woman use the toilet in a tourist info but had to wait for the boat where the goulash could give bloody stools to the strongest tummy. I would have pissed on the driver and not stood there like a fool. I wanted to hit that motherfucker so badly but I held my anger. Soviet rule has drained the blood of humor. I cannot connect to the people or land. It's too foreign for me.
Nazi blood still runs hot even in the veins of a new "clean" generation. I take pride in my roots, my land and you aren't even worth the oxygen you breath. Excuse my grammar my mistake but I am an angry woman. I have witness the shit that nourished Hitler and it's repundant.
