I have wanted to write for the past few weeks, as I have been travelling again and rejoined the workforce as well and had lots of new experiences, which made me want to write. I took a job in Paris and I have started exploring that city and about two weeks ago I started a blog entry, a very enthusiactic one for that, on how beautiful that city (Paris) is, where even the homeless lady who asked me for a cigarette a few weeks ago in the sunny park near the Champs-Elysees looked like Sophia Loren and had the style of an English duchess. But then I went back; the sun had disappeared and I spent a lot of time wandering around a strange, rainy and gloomy city going from one flat to the other in the hope of findig a dwelling and I felt like I had become like that nice homeless lady, who, her great smile and enviable eyes (that, in my imagination, hid a beatiful, sad and tragic story) notwithstanding was still a miserable creature with noone and nothing in the world. It is not so bad, of course, enjoying the "glamorous" life, but being a "citizen of the world" as a nice lady that I met on the plane over here put it, means also being homeless and rootless at the same time. I feel that I cannot legitimately have any expectations from anyone anywhere because I am a transitory creature, who is in one place for only a limited amount of time and is hence unable to offer anything of substance. It is very convenient in some ways because there is no need to commit (which frightens me to death), on the other hand, I am so tired. So ready to settle. Not for anything though - just yet; and that keeps me going.

The good thing that has come out of these past weeks: I reconnected with my fake-cousin-true-sister, Elisabeth, and I again realised that as far as relationships are concerned things are not as complicated and unexplainable as one likes to think. Most of our motivations in this area are extremely primal and simple and our ostensibly deep and complex feelings can, from one minute to the next, appear like silliness and a waste of time: all depending on one brief moment, when something clicks and that triggers a view of the other that is suddenly removed and objective. It is sad and encouraging at the same time. Seeing someone, who was the object of your desire (and secretly the potential object of your true love) as a stranger, who is more annoying and embarrassing than anything else is sad. Nonetheless, it is liberating and gratifying: you feel like you narrowly escaped a life of misery, even if that life was only in your head, and if you can stop wanting that fantasy-life-turned-into-a-nightmare, then you free up loads of energy to be able to want something else. Whatever that "something else" may be.

In Paris for now - I will see if this place can become one of "my cities". Now I feel that it takes years to get there; I have that feeling about Budapest and London: every other corner vividly reminds me of an important moment, a significant experience, a meeting that mattered, a few honest words told - life till now, in short. I do not know if I can acquire that again, in a new place - maybe. After all, I am a citizen of the world.