Nativity Play

(Dedicated to Roth-Vizi Réka)

The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan Van Eyck in 1434

A child ruthlessly changes the course of a mother’s life. It is a biological process through which they both undergo and never look back, there is no past, just future. A few thousand years ago a woman had underwent such a process, however the lives changed by this particular process were far more numerous than expected. Funny how an umbilical cord-based relationship can change the whole course of History. 

Yet, we celebrate this very umbilical cord at the end of the current month, respectively year. 

Pigeon of Fog

Rain in November used to be cold, foreshadowing the next month of frost and savage winter. Yet, this November with its still dry grounds and soft airy nights under the oak tree brings us the surprise of not seeing your breath materializing in the atmosphere of the night. Even more so in the morning the fresh row fog lightly caresses your ear and forehead, as a voice of someone missing.

With this rather prosaic description I think of November as a missionary, or an agent of the missing.

Dedicated to Flora

There are things that live, or do not live it depends on what we want to believe about these things above mentioned. It is even more interesting when you yourself have the utmost power  of decision about there mere existence. Whichever you decide no comfort of the right decision will enlighten your days, because there is no such thing.

Lovely as it is the autumn morning with its misty fogs and fox-like tree leaves its coldness numbs our feet.    

September

For every person there is a time of the year, when he or she revises the last year’s events and compares it to the former one. Schoolgirl running past the lane dressed in bluish uniforms, her feet playing with the falling leaves, is a more than idyllic image of autumn. One “must have” of the autumn imagery are chestnuts. Those little jewels of the autumn damsel are inevitable. But what might be the sign colour of this autumnal trend. Surely there is a large range of possible choices. However, the most subjective voice of this paragraph is in favor of brown, rotten brown, rotten to the core of the branches.   

The Largest Coffee Cup

Andy Warhol, Cup and Saucer, 1962

Space. Since the theory of relativity adjectives like large, eternal, sightlessly remote or minuscule are all blurred for me, there are times when I cannot distinguish the space laying in an autumnal park, from that of the inside of a coffee cup. I sometimes like to merge these and thus get a pretty park in a white China Town coffee cup. Whether is pleasantly large or ‘out of space’ depends only on my mood.  However, I righteously associate more space with pleasant and less space with unpleasant circumstances.

This city is way too little to squeeze itself into my China coffee cup.