There are moments when this still gives me a fright... but it's getting older, and with that it is getting more and more familiar. Perhaps one day I will come to terms with it.

Spending 5 hours in the Volvo is only good for one thing: to take inventory. These are the places where I felt I belonged (the bitter fact is though, it was always temporary)... well, ladies and gentlemen come forth and take a good look: Kolozsvár, Budafok, Csepel, Kertváros, Uránváros, Óváros, Egyetemváros (a legkedvesebb dimenzió Pécsből), Oslo, Parkville, Brunswick, Plenty, Omeo. 

Polyva is the Hungarian word for tumbleweed. It might as well be a great chunk of my character too. Nonetheless tasting the word polyva in my mouth, certainly weights my heart down. It's just another painful realisation about myself versus the world, like when I learnt that I don't have a middle name... or a home...

Perhaps that's the idea of believing; you are just a passing moment in this machinery and therefore you are not supposed to belong... not to people and not to this world... you don't get to belong here... not yet.

I am always okay.

yeah... keep telling yourself that.