Mr. K kept two documents in his desk drawer. One was a residence card that politely promised stability until 2030. The other was a passport that politely promised identity until 2031. He treated both like adults treat seatbelts: he knew they mattered, he hated thinking about why.
On good days, he almost forgot them. He went to work, bought bread, argued with a coffee machine that refused to understand the … Read the rest
Tired after more than twelve hours working day I was driving home through Andrássy Street recently and got slowed down by the taxi drivers’ protest. Blue lights, horns, yellow cars squeezed together like irritated bees. In that moment, when the city suddenly becomes a bottleneck of human frustration, you cannot help wondering how many strange incentives are packed into one square kilometer of Budapest traffic.
At first glance they looked … Read the rest
