"Magasiskola is a rare piece of Hungarian prose, the sample of which can be found in the need for Aristotelian measure. The lack of any minimal element, but also its excess, could collapse the proportions." Beata Thomka

Summer 1956! An ominous idyll of a summer's sweltering pause, waiting and preparation. One evening, my friend calls me unexpectedly and asks if I would like to visit the experimental falconry colony in Ohati (the only one in the country), where the chief falconer is a good friend of his. It would be a one- or one-and-a-half-week getaway, and it depends on me how much I run out of patience and time. I could not have guessed, at least not yet, that the invitation to a different kind of initiation would soon come; along the path of revolution. It is a Central European coincidence that the two initiations, from there the view from dizzying heights and the logic of their deeper currents
not so different, the author wrote about the history of the High School in 1995.

You have to get used to the constant wind, the lack of shade; if you want, you can ride for kilometers on horseback, but you still don't feel like you've arrived anywhere; the desert sky closes like a cage of light; it's like a wick lamp shining in your eyes, it's always on your trail, it finds you everywhere; with that much strength, you could sit in a cell, behind bars, there a hundred pears will do the same; if you could at least see someone nearby who would join you and speak to you, then you could decide to stay silent, but there is no one anywhere, not a single person anywhere. You will believe.