One day, when I was about six years old, my uncle brought home a young woman he wanted to marry. I thought of her as a fascinating petite gentlewoman. Her different beauty than what I have seen in my family mesmerised me. She was quiet and kind. She treated me with warmth and understanding. Almost like a child. I fell in love with her pretty fast.

After the wedding passed in a usual manner, smelling of alcohol, music and reckless joy, she was mostly alone and I was always welcome in her home. I felt being in her company, that nothing else mattered to her, that she had no other ambition at those moments than focussing on my wellbeing, feeding me something delicious or telling funny stories…

Pain was my most faithful partner so far. I could count on it at any given moment. It didn’t come to me in a simple form, which you could locate and name it but as a condition given to me in heritage - Migraine.

The pain of existing. The mystery, the phantom, the aura, the loss of boundary between me and space, smell, and sound around. A total loss of life-force. Being stuck in an endless moment before death… 

Children were strange to me back then. I found it difficult to relate to them, simply because they were so spoiled, overprotected, and unreasonable. Helpless and rude. They had toys and games I didn’t know how to play since the opportunity to do so was rare. I didn’t go to visit them, not to catch the germ of ordinary, and they didn’t dare come visit me. I was busy becoming a violinist, and they didn’t dare to face my tall father.

I met Margareta when we were four years old. We went to the same kindergarten and later to the same class in the first grade of school…

I left my homeland when I was a young adult. As I was running, the ground of the country I was leaving behind was crumbling and dissolving into dust. Often since then, I felt like a visitor in my own life. 

I took off, not daring to look behind or ahead. As I felt my father’s hands lifting me on to the first step of the bus, which drove me away in the middle of the night into my future full of hope and worth living, my mind went into a state of a blank. I can't remember anything about that trip…

Sleep always played an important role in my life. I had all kinds of relationships with Morpheus. From when I was a small child, I had a strong sense that there is a parallel world I live in during the time of sleep. Awaking is a form of going back to sleep somewhere else… That's why my waking process is long every morning. I need time to adjust to the earthly frequency of living and taking my body with me into a new day...

There was no other place I wanted to be at as a toddler. Disciplined synchronised movements reflecting in mirrors. The sound of the pointe shoes lifting the angelic beings of ethereal beauty into the air seemed to me like a sound of my destiny. It didn’t matter that I had no shoes to stand on, I stood on my toes anyhow… I learned every step of the 'Swan Lake'. Odil and her mesmerising 32 fouettés were the toughest but the most satisfying…

When God was creating a life for me, for some reason, understandable only in a far future, he had me born in a northern province of Serbia, an eastern republic of a country that doesn't exist anymore, Yugoslavia. My mother language was Hungarian and I was, therefore, a different kind of a normal kind of an accepted sort of folk, which belonged to the colourful bouquet of nations and nationalities that enjoyed the open doors of paradise and the beautiful brotherly feeling of equality and opportunity…