Post Scriptum 1

I have been at home for more than 10 days now. Before that I was in New York for a while and had a wonderful time, as always in that city. I still have a lot of thoughts to share with myself mostly but I find it difficult to write now that I am back in the "real world". Also, all thos things that I could share about my travel buddies and others that I had met on the road were easy to share because there was (is) no stake: I cannot hurt anyone's feelings by what I write because those people are not "real", not part of my everyday life, not reading my blog. Now I could analyze much about my local friendships andthe way people interact (or, rather, do NOT interact) here, but it feels like a betrayal. Just like it would have felt like a betrayal to write about any of the affairs that I had had on the road because of the boyfriend I used to have.

It is always really nice to come back to the familiarity and security of this place, Budapest, which is more my home than any other place but as time goes by I find that I have less and less to say to my oldest and best friends. I am not sure if that would be much different if I was still living here: they do not seem to have that much to say to each other, either. But I am very conscious of the fact that no matter where I am I am living a kind of "borrowed life" - it is never really mine just by virtue of the fact that there is a finiteness to it. And I feel very comfortable doing that, whether it be in LA, New York, Rio, London or Budapest, which makes me a citizen of the world on the one hand, but a person with no real home on the other. I like it this way for now but there is this lingering uneasiness about it, a feeling that is amplified by being faced with all those friends (and ex-friends) who have truly settled down and chose a life. (Wedding-fever in Hungary does not help: only here two weeks and attending two weddings.) Do not really know how to deal with this.

As for the affairs - they are forgettable. There is only one thing that really matters to me, the one thing that was not an affair and that I could not talk about. (Of course, if I ever wanted to publish any of this I would have to talk about s*x because evidently that is what sells best...)