Like an endless vacation, where nothing is open, only the dazzling sky stretching to the horizon. A kitchen from which there is no escape, but the more time you spend in it, the more you can see how nebulae seep out from the corners of the cabinets, time freezes into crystals in the refrigerator, and the face of a startled animal looks back at us from the black mirror of the coffee. It is a familiar situation to everyone who has survived the last two years on planet Earth, which has been hit by the epidemic. Through the lens of Simon Márton's new poems, all of this will be something else: intimate like a radiation infection, confusing like love, and homely like a Monday apocalypse. - Mátyás Dunajcsik "I solved the embarrassing urge to speak by replacing all my words with the same one. I solved it, effervescent tablets: I wrote a love poem about how much I hate everyone else. I didn't promise anything."