A Hungarian Rhapsody

My life is a kind of rhapsody in pictures from combinations of light and shadows, painted through the colours of experiences. 

Born in a strange period, but I learned to see stories in moments, and meaning in the light that surrounds us everywhere. My adventures started in Eastern Europe, Hungary during the communist era, I grew up in a time that shaped resilience, adaptability, and perspective.
They were strange years — full of ideals on the surface, yet deeply restrictive and quietly dictatorial. Because of that, I don’t blame anyone for the wrong decisions. Nothing truly worked the way it should have back then.
It was almost inevitable that my parents shaped the course of my life, even though at the time I didn’t realise it.

My heart wanted art. That was my first choice.
My second choice was something practical, something technical — architecture. That second path was not really mine; it was my father’s. What he could not achieve himself, I was expected to carry forward.

One phone call to the art academy changed everything. In a single moment, my life turned in a different direction and pulled me into the technical world. It was a world I learned to survive in, but never one that truly fit me.
After finishing my studies, I chose hospitality instead — a place where people, emotion, and human connection mattered more. It has remained my main activity ever since.
I left my country, family, and friends to find love. I didn’t find it, but I found peace, and maybe that’s even more important for a happy life.
Every ending is also the beginning of something new. After all, nothing in life lasts forever.
Now, as I approach retirement age, I feel a quiet but persistent pull back to my original dreams and talents.

I am slowly organising a return to myself. I am trying to reconnect with my need for art — something that has never disappeared, only waited gently and patiently in the background of my mind.

You don’t choose where you come from, but you choose where you’re going.
We all carry our past, but I choose my own direction. This is not where my past ends — it’s where my future begins. It’s mine. I own it.

I’m not perfect, never going to be, but I’m on my own path, and that’s all I need.