You may be aware about the fact that I post one of my Hungarian stories (poems, texts, call them as you wish) every Monday and Thursday, and one of the Spanish pieces on Tuesdays and Fridays. The ones posted these days are pieces of a Hungarian-Spanish bilingual series, which is one of hte most important things I’ve ever written. These stories were written long ago: I’m filling this new space up chronologically. Actually, I would truly like if I could produce 2 (or 4) pieces like those per week. As it goes, last week I didn’t even find it in myself to pre-program posting those, much less to write something new, no matter the promise about writing once a week. Even now, I find it difficult to mine anything out of my rather labyrinthic memories that would make an acceptable story.
My mum was here, for almost 24 hours, and for this festive occasion I managed to do something I was completely unable in the previous 10 days, that is, tidy up this flat of mine, and I’m absoutely relieved, for I truly don’t need any outside chaos in addition to the one inside. There will be photos soon, meaning before the end of April. I still have a to-do list that miraculously keeps growing, no matter how many items I cross off; and tonight as I arrived home I was surprised by a postal slip stating I have a pack – I have no idea what it might be and even less of when I can go and pick it up, though it should better be this week if I want to survive the attack of curiosity it provoked.