Pieces of my heart…
… litter a fragmented landscape that spans from California to the former Soviet block.” This is my sentence of the day, read in apartamento magazine at 9.30 pm.
The pieces of my heart lie scattered from an Andean dwelling about 30 kilometers from Molinos, Salta county, Argentina, to the Eastern plains of Mongolia. In between is a conglomeration of pieces all over Europe, mainly in its capitals. With a slight twist to the central-east and an even stronger one to the south of the white sausage equator. Why am I telling you this? To show off? No. These days everyone is a nomad. To indulge in this typical, periodically errupting Hungarian melancholy of mine? (After all, the aprtamento article was partly on Hungarian marxist – whatever that is – György Lukács.) No. I am not that Hungarian. To share with you the memory of all the places I have lived in? Maybe. To test how to include links in a blog post?
No, the real reason is to mentally and visibly and digitally traceably and decidedly counterbalance the other statement, that was my sentence of the day until 9.29 pm: “A good closet starts at 800 euros”, overheard during lunch break. No. No. No. I won’t ever say that. I won’t become like that, won’t enter the 800-euro-cupboard zone. I don’t want that.
I rather keep littering fragmented landscapes with pieces of my heart.
ami a fejemen átmegy 
touché, point taken, my dear.
The reality of mundane household cluttering, its consequences and even more so the tax levied on our minds of joining the other side in the “Fight Club” should not be paid.
Oh, I didn’t even mean you but our other colleague 😉 Good point though!