Hamszai G. András - Lélekpiruett

Pushing the hand of fate is an intense feeling. Man resists for years, but in vain. Let it be excused that we mostly don't understand a word of our suggestions, which is perhaps even better, because when we start to understand, we come face to face with the price, and although reason is a great virtue, in such cases there is nothing more harmful than rationality.
One Thursday morning, at three-thirty, I found myself on the international express train with only a few hole-in-ones in my pocket to try my luck in France. I locked my dear mother tongue in the palm of my country and lovingly promised to come back for it. Maybe I should have been worried. But still, by that time I had already let myself go for a good decade, let the swollen, confused price of life, swollen by the melting of its own capital letters, wash away my faith in rationality along with my beautiful hopes. And time seems to have stopped between winter and spring. It became clear that I would either make it to the shore, or my sticky gloom would eventually wrap around me like a small bird in the dew grass.