The Mythical Novel and Other Updates

I'm just back from a stroll and the sun is doing something it has rarely done since the holidays — shining. Spring is arriving to Budapest, or at least sending a Save The Date card. It's too early to trust it...

Scentless Honey

This is what's become of me, Roxy Years later, after that September evening in Moszkva tér, when Carly brought the wine and somehow I came back looking for you

Sick. Sick. Sick.

The fulcrum point was not Iryna Zarutska, and it wasn’t Charlie Kirk. The fulcrum point was the way that different factions of unwell people are rationalizing their acceptance of – or even satisfaction with – undeniable human tragedy: murder.

I'm so very sorry...

So sorry to bother you, but it happened again, only days later. The fugue state. Up on the Gellért Hill for my morning sun today.