Stands to reason, the Mexican government, they cain’t persuade any real Mexican priests to travel all the way to Texas. Those hanker after the fleshpots of the big city. So the oney priests they can get to work in land s’far away are Irishmen who cain’t make no livin’ in Ireland, and who cain’t speak a word of Spanish neither, if’n you ask me.

Let us not assume such previous conjecturals, but rather consult and expostulate death, since death is the wages and the reward of sin.

During the 1980s, its vivid streetlife became a symbol of the “consumer socialism” that distinguished Hungary from other Eastern Bloc states, but Budapesters today are rather less enamoured of Váci: dressed-to-kill babes and their sugar daddies would rather pose in malls, and teenagers can find McDonald's anywhere, leaving Váci utterly dependent on tourists for its livelihood and bustle.

Here the desert of death simulates a field of cooling snow, green hills lie black in the dazzling light of day, limpid waters run green over arsenic stone, and sunset betricks the fantastic rock with column and capital and dome.