My passion for reading and books started around the time I learnt how to read. I loved touching their spine, take them off the shelf, and smell them. (Ooohh, the smell of books…!) I would spend hours in the library, browsing in the (back then) paper-based catalogue. I enjoyed to be in silence- being an…
To read it in Hungarian, click here/A magyar változatért katt ide
This spring I have started a serie on Facebook with the title ‘Everyday miracles from photos which represent quite basic things: a box of farm eggs, a crate of fresh strawberries, a half kilo of cottage cheese and sour…
My parents moved to their first flat just before I was born. The tiny apartment was located on the 9th floor of a new building block in a microdistrict, which my mother decorated with lots of love, since it was their first home. However, it was really small for…
‘You should start writing’, says Áron not for the first time this month, without giving me the sense of pressure, but with his typical, meaningful look.
‘But what should I write about in this current situation?’, I ask in despair, ‘everything would sound so unnatural and insincere….
‘Write from your heart…
This story has been waiting for me to tell you since last year. The scene of this story is a small village in northwestern Hungary, in the Bakony mountains, however it could be any village where those kind of people live for whom keeping traditions, and preserving values for…
It is a story about a ‘not ordinary’ hammer.
Its handle is made from wood, carefully polished and lacquered, fits comfortably to my palm, and it is getting thinner direction to the head. The wood itself is dark, full of spots and scratches, it could definitely tell many stories if…
My grandma has turned 88. Normally, she doesn’t like her birthdays, but we always insisted to celebrate them. It was hard for her to accept that she can’t get prepared and welcome us the way she always used to. With pain in her fingers it is getting difficult to…
