folyosó

A Missing Piece

Mercédesz Gerda Einwag

Once, when I was seven years old, I got a puzzle for Christmas  with barbies on it; of course at that time it was a priority for me that everything have to do with barbies and girly things. On that day I opened it and started to solve it, but I found something else that was more interesting, so I left it in the middle of the living room.

The next day, I woke up and started to solve it again. It was an easy one with thirty pieces in total. I was getting close to finishing it, when I realized that one was missing. Of course the whole family started looking for it, but we couldn’t find it. I started crying, because it wasn’t done. Later my mom put it away, because I forgot it existed. A few weeks later my mom found an article on the internet saying that the manufacturer of this company had sold some puzzles with missing pieces, so they replaced them.

It was a puzzle in itself, that I got it but there was a missing piece that we had to find; it was complete chaos.

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The Silence Before the Storm

Áron Antal

I arrived at the construction site at 6 a.m. We (and by “we” I only mean Jack and Walt) were working on this mechanic station, where we were given the task to renew buildings with the crew. My uncle Jack said that he would appreciate my help because I had worked here before, and the crew was severely understaffed because most of them had got the flu.

—Today we will dig the ditch—said Jack before taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.

I just nodded and Walt lit a cigarette, as usual, while he started to walk towards the trencher.

As he walked, my uncle was staring at the old gas pipe peeking out of the wall of hangar 2, which was to be left alone, even though no equipment in the building will work with gas.

—What do you think, how deep does it run?— I asked Jack.

—Deep enough that we shouldn’t disturb it—he replied.

—Won’t there be any problems with it? Have you called the authorities about this?—I asked.

—Don’t worry about it. This is not some sort of puzzle or problem that you have to crack. This isn’t school. It will be fine. When we dug there you see, we didn’t see any sign of it, and then we dug deeper than we will now, this will turn out to be just a sewage pipe, for God’s sake.

When he replied, the trencher, although hesitantly, started up and began to approach us.

—We will be done with this by 11 a.m.—Jack said. We have to. See the clouds gathering? Hey Walt!

—What now!—said Walt with a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth.

—Start here, right at the edge of the building, and we will move towards the pit there, you see!

—Right—said Walt and enabled the stabilizer hydraulics on the trencher.

—Now go get the loader—said Walt to me. —We will put all the dirt we dig up in the grab bucket, and you will take it to the heap, okay?

—Okay—I said. I walked to the loader and climbed into it. The terrible smell of the smoke-soaked cabin invaded my nose. I started the engine and rolled next to the trencher. I put down the grab bucket next to the trencher, and got out of the cabin to see how the trencher was doing. The bucket bit into the ground, and took out a huge chunk of the ground. And from the ground, a pipe became visible.

—Stop the trencher you moron!—shouted my uncle to Walt.

—Why?—and while he was asking that, he pushed down the button of his lighter.

At that instance, a fireball started expanding from the open window of the trencher. It engulfed Walt, whose face just blankly stared at the end of his cigarette. The fireball continued to expand, like the Universe when it was born, in an astonishing yet devastating way. The screaming of the gas became quiet as the sound of the flames dominated the air.

—It wasn’t as deep as you thought it would be, Jack. It wasn’t nearly as deep as you thought it would be. If you would have just let me investigate a bit…— I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and put my arms in front of my head, thinking that it would protect me from the rapid gas explosion four meters away from me.

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Letter from the Editor (Spring 2022)

This letter, like the spring itself, gavottes swiftly by; we’re almost at the end of the year, and this calls for crisp words. This second anniversary issue of Folyosó has two special features: a section of pieces on puzzles (pieces about puzzles, pieces involving puzzles, pieces that are puzzles). There’s even a piece by someone who doesn’t like puzzles! So give these puzzles and anti-puzzles a whirl.

Then comes a section that will seem peculiar at first until (a) you get used to them, (b) you read Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America, or (c) the disbelief evaporates on its own. Each of the pieces uses the phrase “trout fishing in America” in whatever way it pleases. The phrase can function as a noun, a verb, an adjective, or anything else.

The “trout fishing” pieces are a little bit strange. But that is part of the point. When you allow yourself to do unusual things with language, you hear it in new ways. Stories emerge that never would have existed otherwise.

We also include two utopia projects by students from Class 12.C, interesting in both their content and their presentation. We hope that they will stimulate discussion of the ideas!

In honor of this year’s Shakespeare Festival, which took place on April 22 and kicked off a wonderful new tradition, we are republishing a Shakespeare-inspired section from Issue 1:3 (Winter 2020–2021). Here are just a few pictures of the festival itself.

Lilla Kassai painted two portraits for the Hamlet scene in this festival; they appear here on the Folyosó cover and on their own page, along with two more of her pieces. We are honored to feature her art again.

The next issue, featuring our next international contest, will come out in October. Contest details will be posted by the end of June. We wish you a fruitful, restful, pliable, not-too-short summer!

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

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Italian Cathedral

Lilla Kassai

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Brushstrokes

Matilda Flóra Ősz Oh, my back hurts so much, I sighed while opening my eyes. I heard the murmuring ocean

Wooden Cottage

Lilla Kassai

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Brushstrokes

Matilda Flóra Ősz Oh, my back hurts so much, I sighed while opening my eyes. I heard the murmuring ocean

Old London

Lilla Kassai

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Brushstrokes

Matilda Flóra Ősz Oh, my back hurts so much, I sighed while opening my eyes. I heard the murmuring ocean

Brushstrokes

Matilda Flóra Ősz

Oh, my back hurts so much, I sighed while opening my eyes. I heard the murmuring ocean near my head and the quarrel of the seagulls. I did not really understand where I was, my memories were twisted, my mind was blank and my migraine increased as I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

I shouted “Hey, anyone here?” through the forest, but no one answered me.

I knocked. No one answered. I knocked again and again. I opened the door in rage and fear. The landscape changed every few minutes, my clothes’ started to switch colours, and the house I walked into was like a labyrinth.

After walking for hours I stopped, because I saw a badly executed part of the wall. My intuition was right, it was a secret door that led to a bright spot.

The room was built from different coloured cubes and a person was sitting in the middle of this madness of a place.

Are you alright? I asked. They answered with only two words: never better.

Can you tell me where am I? I said.

You are in a painting. To be exact in all of the paintings in the Lorenzo Museum. You are trapped, they said calmly.

How can I get out? I panicked. I could not even breath properly, I do not even think I articulated all of the words.

You cannot. I tried. For 172 years. You will not feel hunger or fatigue, but in exchange you will not feel anything. You will forget you. But until it happens let’s have a good time, shall we? Tell me about yourself.

They pointed to the corner of the Piet Mondrian, indicating that I should sit down for this.

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Satin

Kitti Lili Tupi

It’s been dark … dark for a few minutes but it feels like eternity. As I squint my eyes, I feel some kind of pressure. It’s pretty heavy yet it feels good, at least for a couple of minutes. I am in an idyllic state. The soft touch of a fabric which has a light pink wash is actually pleasant. However, the pressure it puts on my lungs is unbearable. I try to lift up my arms to help myself, but I can’t. Suddenly I stop thinking about the pressure, time slows down, the light dims and my breath is getting slower by the second. I think about little things in life, the little butterflies in my stomach when we go up a hill and suddenly down; as I feel the butterflies I get a hit on my head. And reality hits, my life is flashing down my eyes as my heart rate drops from the sky to the floor in a matter of seconds. I start to panic, I can’t focus on breathing, I actually skip a few minutes, my thoughts feel heavy. It is like I am storing thousands of kilograms in my head while trying to remember how I used to breathe. My mouth is shut, the heavy silk is on top of it. My nose … I cant feel it, not sure if it is present or just a silly nonexistent memory that i used to have one. Suddenly I drop a few meters down my bed, the silk is all over my body. The pretty pink fabric is now lightweight, just like feathers. Now I can take deep breaths, which finally provide enough oxygen to survive. Enough to make me stay alive. I think I am in the happiest state of life; as I hold the peace of satin my heart drops once again. Now I open my eyes and can see my own room. I am in pink satin pajamas and feel like I am finally living.

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Reading

Emese Kassai

Why reading? When I hear someone talking about books, they usually discuss required readings and how boring or senseless these stories are. Even though sometimes I totally agree with them, I think reading is an awesome thing that you can do in your freetime. In this essay I want to write about what I find fantastic in this activity, hoping that I can encourage some of you to start a book and fall in love with reading (and if you don’t, that’s okay too).

Reading to me is like a lover who always comes back, quietly, so I don’t even notice. Sometimes when I read a book, I can’t put it down, and even if I do, I feel like somehow I’m still in the story. Sometimes I can’t even look at the letters. I have had both horrible and wonderful reading experiences, but with every book I have read, I have somehow become more than I was before. I even got to the point where I want to create my own story, but that’s another matter.

If someone asked me about my favorite book, I probably couldn’t answer, because when I read something that really touches me, it’s like a part of my soul stays with the book. Even though some of them claim a bigger part of my soul than others.

One of these books is The Inexplicable Logic of my Life by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. This book has everything in it. Family, friendship, loss, grief and love. Salvador, the protagonist and also the narrator, is a young high schooler. He tells the readers his story with a little bit of sarcasm and humour, but (and this is my favorite thing in the book) he is totally honest. It’s not a fantasy or a romance, neither a thriller nor a crime story. It’s just about feelings, and that’s the power in it. At least for me.

One of my favorite things in reading is that I feel like I’m in another world, which is so much more than this one. When I’m reading, I feel that I am so much more than in reality. I feel like I am that girl who I can only dream to become, I feel like I’m the protagonist. When I read, I feel like I’m at home. The other thing I find good in this activity is that when people see that I am reading, some of them will probably think that I am an intelligent and clever being. I have already screwed them, and we haven’t even talked.

And why would I recommend reading to you? Because it’s fun! When you choose a book, it doesn’t have to be a classic, it doesn’t have to be fantasy or romance. Reading is about you, and it’s about getting to know yourself, travelling to new places, new worlds or even old ones. It makes you more than you were before.

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Walking

Zalán Galics

I chose walking as a topic because I really like it. I think this is my favourite activity.

I also chose walking because I couldn’t think of anything else. I think walking is an important practice.

I go for a walk almost every day if i can. I usually listen to music while I’m walking, which makes it even better. I started walking because I had too many things on my mind at the same time and I was just home all day, so I needed some way to unplug. I haven’t been walking regularly for a long time, but so far I really like it.

I like to go for a walk because I can switch off while doing it. When I’m sad, nervous, or just not feeling well, I can go for a walk and clear my mind. Sometimes I get so into it that I can walk for hours. I also love it because I can be out in nature and breathe some fresh air.

There were famous people who liked to walk: for example, Nietzsche.He was a famous philosopher, and he said: “Sit as little as possible; do not believe any idea that was not born in the open air and of free movement.” When he was writing The Wanderer and His Shadow, he walked for up to eight hours a day, all alone. Every now and then he would stop to scribble notes in small notebooks. Almost the entire book was thought out and composed during his walks.*

Walking is different things to different people. To Nietzsche, walking was more than relaxation; it was where he worked best.

I recommend it to everyone because I think it’s very relaxing and can fix your mood. Walking is also good for your health, because at least you’re moving a bit. So if you’re not in a good mood or you just want to get some exercise, then I definitely recommend it because it’s a really good activity.

*Source: Farnam Street, “A Philosophy of Walking,” https://fs.blog/a-philosophy-of-walking/ (summary of A Philosophy of Walking by Frederic Gros [Verso Books, 2015]).

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