I am Hungary

I am Hungary. In the morning off the coast of Hungary I watched a steamer churn up the green waters. The whale’s road was in a flurry. I turned to my lieutenant who was not enjoying himself. He turned away from me so that I could not see his face. I asked him was he serious. I told him the documents were sitting on my desk, and that I would take a pen to them that afternoon. He sat down by the water. His epaulettes looked golden. He would not look at me. I am Hungary.

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