I decided it was high time to put the older posts of this blog, inherited from the previous one, into some sort of order. The previous blog having been a pre-Instagram attempt at some sort of daily posting discipline, was filled with the occasional one picture, one thought only diary/scrapbook entries which don’t make too much sense in the long run. So here comes the order monster in me trying to give everything a nice new shape, perhaps a sense and a meaning, all of which, in a postmodern manner happens in retrospect.
And for this exercise one needs a place to start, so even if the blog is mostly about Budapest, as I happen to be, at least physically, mostly in Budapest (mentally I’m almost invariably on Vulcan), I chose that place to be Belgrade. Belgrade on a very hot early August weekend, when we totally irrationally had quince rakija for lunch, and suffered the consequences- took far too few shots, for example. But then again Belgrade, my love for it, has always been irrational, and thus unmovable and unwavering. And Belgrade has also always been a place of the imagination, that city which I knew even before seeing it. The Ancients said that all roads lead to Rome. And that’s true. The only thing left is to find your own Rome. Whatever comes next is then, perhaps, an attempt to do that.