• Sitting On The Top Of The World

All my people were gone, within three years I lost my whole family. Still in the same year like my grandmother É.Á passed away, too. Although I had already lost her long before she died. But her death was the trigger, to write this book, which I started (now) fifteen years ago. I had to confront me with myself, with my life. I couldn’t believe there was not one more (a last) chance to talk about us, to solve the riddle together. I had to do it on my own. I started to write first in hungarian language. Years later I had to change the language, as I also changed my life, by changing the country. The big crash. /Oh, well!/ But interestingly, it did not matter in which language I thought, the same words were coming into my mind. As this book would have been already written to the music and I just would need to type it. My only chance to get the whole picture was to use a third language. A language has several meanings to me. I think of it as a mutual medium to express feelings and thoughts, to attain understanding. Actually it is often an insuperable obstacle according to one’s environment, and upbringing. The cause of so many misunderstandings, even in the same tongue. Every language will be exorbitantly overrated, although it should be just a small part, since it is only one kind of communication. We are speaking to tell something, even if we don’t say anything, even if we don’t have to say anything. A small nuance with a big difference. We are trying nonstop to find a common language to communicate (and here I dont think of Esperanto). The ART has its own language. No matter which kind of it, visual, or performing, it begs for understanding as well. It must be narcissistic, since it is trying to speak to you with voices and sounds, with a whole body, with moves, with colors, with words, stimulating to use all your senses. It is a gift to you, which allows you, to get the joy and to live in harmony with yourself, you just must be open and able to receive it. The harmony is always limited by time, as every feeling has its expiration date. I did assume already as I started with, that I would never finish this book, since I did not know, how much time remains to write it. Yet it will be complete in every state, even if it remains incompleted (just like my life), so I know, I can quit with it everytime. But back in time, back to the start, using different languages – at that time I wanted to prevent, that my thoughts could be read by somebody. I didn’t want, my life to be an open book for everybody. /Now it is./