Jucika is a weird girl. Others appear (?) when they hope for more relaxed circumstances. When they can expect a lot of good from those who they ask. Jucika is not like this. She waited untill the December of 1956. There was a strike back then, the trams weren't going and a lot of people's head was filled with chaos. No one knew her untill. Then she combed down her shining black hair, dressed up neatly and set off. The people turned their heads "Is there such a thing too?" "You can live like this too?" "Can anyone else laugh like this?" "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? In times like these?" said a woman angrily at her. But Jucika didn't pay attention. She knew her. That woman only liked money and herself. Jucika loves her own life. "What a good taste she has" said a little girl with a worn out coat and to be able to dress like Jucika she went back to the factory from where she was ousted by hooligans. "This is one cute girl" said a boy who looked at her for a long time and then called for her. But he was unlucky because Jucika told him her opinion. Her purse, like any woman's, is full with all kinds of junk but her head isn't empty either. Her adventures always end with a punchline, often with one on some loose man's face. She is not religious but she sacrefices a lot on the altar. On the altar of fashion. [Bunch of puns here that I can't be assed with, basically it described how beautiful she is] Jucika is always kind, always just and she is never like the bread in the shop: she is always the woman of today. Her dad can be proud of her: Pusztai Pál