Many years have flown by since my childhood. The sky above me has turned from smiling blue to unhappy grey. Nearly forty years of dust is sleeping on the ever more ragged shoe of my life, which who knows how long will be kept on in the dry reality of the shadow world. So off I went again to my old little village, to find the blue sky and my lonely, wandering dreams in the hazy mist of Time.

I know very well when the time comes and my legs worn out from the paths of life will finally stop, and everything I was turns to dust – my home will be the meadow  resounding with memories of the trans-Danubiam region with its raibows, versatile, thousand faces, filled with the cuckoo’s song. There I will fall on the precious ground, fall into it for all eternity, the silence will swallow me too, I can put my pen down , I can rest my head on the dear, lovely heart of Szőlőhegy…