Yesterday I had the opportunity, the privilege to tour more of Budapest. In the northeast corner of the city is the Városliget; a large park, roughly 12 x 8 city blocks in total area. I do not mean to belabor the fact that Budapest is a traveler’s/photographer’s ideal; but, I would rate Budapest with Istanbul, Rome and New York City for places one should take the time to see before they die. These four cities are magnificent, inspiring, dynamic, and most importantly: accessible.
The residents of great cities understand the invaluable nature of the living treasures they inhabit, and are not so selfish as to keep them sequestered for themselves. A corporate willingness to share the things they love has been instilled in the people of the Hungarian capital, and that is no small thing. The Városliget was overcrowded yesterday, and so I decided to be the first one there this morning. Humans are rarely a complement to the art pieces one is trying to capture in a photograph. I am a jealous traveler. I like to have venues to myself whenever possible.
There is a shrouded woman, slouching in an oversized chair. In her right hand she holds a pen, in her left hand she holds an unfinished work. Has she died while inscribing a message to us? Is she sleeping; involuntarily taking a respite from her labors? Has she been poisoned? Is the truth of her discovery so threatening to those in power as that?
A closer look will prove that she has been slouched for sometime, undisturbed The sockets which once held the perceptive, dancing light of discovery and mischief are empty. Although they are open, she no longer has eyes to see. She has been abandoned, left in peace; either out of respect or fear, malice or neglect. As she remains, deceased, undiscovered, so to her truth remains out of the reach of humankind’s world understanding.
Will she remain the only one to know the truth of things? Or will we brave to peer inside her hollow eyes ever fearful of what we will find?
albaniacalling 