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Letter from the Editor


Dear Readers,

For this issue of Folyosó—and our fifth international contest—we received an unprecedented number of strong pieces—from the Árpád Vezér Gimnázium in Sárospatak, Hungary; the Varga Katalin Gimnázium in Szolnok, Hungary; and the Lycée Sainte Pulchérie in Istanbul, Turkey. Students responded to the following prompt: “Write a piece (a poem, story, dialogue, essay, letter or other written work) that has to do with one of these animals: bird, cat, bear, fish, horse. It may involve more than one kind of animal, but please be sure to indicate the main animal in the subject line. The piece may be about the animal, evoke the animal, or speak from the animal’s perspective.”

There were poems, essays, stories, diary entries, and a letter: pieces with wit, feeling, and imagination. A poem that begins “And the snapping of their jaws wreck the earth” (“And Their Flesh Ached for the Sea” by Elif Yavuz) has me hooked. Eszter Forvith’s “Urban Dove,” with its slightly delirious narration, sets me up to be surprised later. Dominik Karajos’s “The Bench“—which did not fit any of the contest categories but is published in the poetry section—ponders the meaning of life whimsically and playfully.

Many thanks to my colleagues Anikó Bánhegyesi and Judit Kassainé Mrena, who served with me on the jury. Selecting winners is a largely subjective process; while it was difficult to assign rankings, we were delighted with the pieces overall and tried to recognize some of the ones that stood out for us. Instead of calculating the averages of our individual rankings, we each judged one category independently, and together judged the “bear” category and selected the overall winners.

The contest had a few anomalies. The two pieces that did not meet the contest requirements are published in the poetry section. Also, I inadvertently neglected to enter Dominik Nemcsok’s “Sour Bear Dream” in the contest; I recognized the error only after the winners had been announced. In recognition of its merit, it has received a special honor.

Aside from the contest, this issue of Folyosó has a new bilingual feature. In the past, we have included select pieces in Hungarian. This time, we present three stories by Boldizsár Berényi (a student at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium) along with my English translation of each. I hope that this feature continues! These stories are singular, daring, and dark; I enjoyed translating them.

Our spring issue will appear in May 2025; the deadline for submissions is April 1. (Anything submitted late will be considered for the Autumn 2025 issue.) In the meantime, we hope you enjoy reading the pieces here.

Best wishes,
Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

Letter from the Editor


Folyosó is now four years old! Hooray that the journal continues, that students take pride in contributing to it, and that some even submit work without my prompting. The poems in this issue—by Zalán Nagykovácsi and Hanna Káplár—came into being without an assignment or prompt. Zalán has contributed to Folyosó before; Hanna is letting her work be published for the first time.

In addition to the poems, this issue features stories about utopias and dystopias; futuristic stories about the Varga Katalin Gimnázium (our school); imaginary college application essays; and cover art by Emese Kassai.

Sometimes you can sense dim echoes of literature we have read this year. My 9.C class (most of the contributors to this issue) read The Glass Menagerie, Othello, “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” (and a number of other poems), “In the Garden of the North American Martyrs,” and “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” (which had a great impact), and are now making their way into To Kill a Mockingbird. Such literature gives students access to dimensions of language that other materials do not approach.

Read away, and let us know what you particularly enjoy!

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

Letter from the Editor


Folyosó has been making its way out into the world. This issue features writing by secondary school students from five schools and four countries: the Varga Katalin Gimnázium in Szolnok, Hungary; the Árpád Vezér Gimnázium in Sárospatak, Hungary; Pinelands High School in Cape Town, South Africa; the Lycée Sainte Pulchérie in Istanbul, Turkey; and the 3 Liceum Ogólnokształcące im. Agnieszki Osieckiej w Sopocie in Sopot, Poland. This is exciting, but the pieces themselves are the most exciting aspect of it all. By turns brilliant, surprising, disturbing, funny, logical, wry, thoughtful, dreamy, and down-to-earth, they remind me why Folyosó exists: for the sake of literature in the making.

One of today’s global anxieties revolves around AI: what will it replace, what will it do well, what will it botch? If an AI bot can generate a story, poem, or essay, why bother writing at all? How can editors be sure that what they receive was written by a human? Why does this matter?

Many of us conceive of writing as solitary: it requires concentration and integrity that cannot be found in a group. Editors want to be assured that what they receive is the submitter’s “own” work: original, not copied from elsewhere, not assisted with a second hand (except the light hand of a teacher or peer). All of this has a basis; the urge to write comes in part from a sense of difference, of having something to say that isn’t already being said, or that others wouldn’t say in the same way. At the same time, writing abounds with influence: not only that of one writer on another, but of editors on writers (and vice versa), musicians on writers, friends on friends. In this light, it is conceivable that writers will one day collaborate with AI (as some are already doing—consider, for instance, Sasha Stiles).

Short of such collaboration, AI writing falls woefully short of what a reasonably resourceful human can do; an AI-written essay plods so blandly along that you would think the point of writing was to say nothing at all, and to say it in the most banal way possible.

The writings in Folyosó leave such blandness far behind. They bristle, shudder, and cackle. Some come from seasoned writers, who write on their own, outside of school; some come from students who write only when they have to, but put thought and care into it. Some pieces are energetically long (this issue features our longest piece yet, an intricate, bracing essay by Szymon Kochański), some brief and breathless. I hope that each of the pieces will find readers.

Readers, after all, bring all of this to life. Some writers (maybe many, who knows?) understand their endeavor differently after receiving a letter from a reader, but even those readers who respond silently make their mark. Allotting time to reading—and then reading a lot, carefully—sustains both writer and reader; once it becomes a habit or a ritual, it can be great fun as well.

This issue includes the winners of our Fourth International Contest (on the topics of “freedom” and “mistakes”); responses to Tennessee Williams’ play The Glass Menagerie; various stories, essays, and poems; and cover art by Emese Kassai. Read away, and let us know what you particularly enjoy!

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

Letter from the Editor


Folyosó is now three years old. The class that inspired it has just graduated; the pandemic, which gave it its initial urgency, has subsided, at least for now. What is Folyosó for, and why does it continue? I usually answer that it means a lot to students at Varga and beyond; that it gives them a place to write for an actual readership; and that it provides a forum for a range of forms, themes, ideas, and turns of phrase.

All of this remains true, but there is more. First, it comes as a joyous surprise when students submit pieces on their own initiative: that is, not within the context of an assignment. Several prolific contributors, including Áron Antal and Lilla Kassai, have kept Folyosó richly inhabited over the past few years. Last autumn, Milán Galics submitted his poem “Season of Death,” which deserves many rereadings. This time, the independent submission comes from Zalán Nagykovácsi, whose poem “Silent Reflection” is featured at the top of the Spring 2023 issue. This introspective, meditative poem drew me in with its rhythm and sound, its mood, and its rhymes that lead into surprises of meaning.

Second, the journal is closely connected with our study of literature. Whether directly or indirectly, the writings draw on influences from Shakespeare to Faulkner. Literature in English language class need not be an afterthought or frill; it is through literature that students encounter the possibilities of language: fresh expression, wit, risks of form, and something that matters, something that must be said.

This year, one of my classes read and discussed Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish,” which begins, “I caught a tremendous fish” and ends “And I let the fish go.” We looked closely at the words, the detailed vocabulary, to figure out how the poem moves from the starting point to the end point. Toward the end of this discussion, we compared the poem with Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Archaic Torso of Apollo” (in the translation of Stephen Mitchell). The whole discussion went well; I was just starting to wrap things up when a student raised her hand. She had more to say. She pointed out that in Rilke’s poem, the speaker perceives the beauty of the torso right away, whereas in “The Fish,” the perception of beauty comes slowly, and eventually becomes so overwhelming and complete that when the speaker lets the fish go, it is with no regrets.

It is not only that kind of insight, but also that kind of urgency—having something to say even after class is technically over—that keeps Folyosó going. Even when these discussions do not end up in Folyosó, they are in the air, and something about them will wend its way here.

In his Nobel Banquet speech, delivered in 1950, William Faulkner speaks of “the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself,” which, according to him, are the only things worth writing about, the only things that can make good writing. Anything else lacks urgency, according to Faulkner; anything else skims the surface. My students in Class 12.C read and discussed this speech in one of our last lessons together. We spoke of “the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed – love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice.” The last concept, sacrifice, has particular meaning for students, since they know well that no matter what anyone says, it is impossible to have or do everything. At some point one thing must be given up for another. Our sacrifices shape us and take place even when we don’t see them. Even setting words on paper or the screen involves sacrifice, since one thing must be said instead of another.

Even so, worthy writing can do something other than contend with universal truths: for instance, it might play. Play itself could be a universal truth, but by it tosses such dictums in the air. Play can relax and stretch our formulas, our sense of what must be. Its fun needs no justification. Folyosó’s playfulness has brought cheer and liveliness to many a day.

The writings in Folyosó come from students trying out their style and ideas in a foreign language. For this very reason, they make for meaningful reading: here are young writers finding their way, sometimes to their own surprise. We are fortunate to have many talented contributors not only from the Varga Katalin Gimnázium, but also from the Lycée Sainte Pulchérie in Istanbul and (on one occasion) Columbia Secondary School in New York City; their writing has been featured in our international contests.

The next issue will come out in November 2023—with the results of our new international contest, the theme and rules of which will be announced in September. Until then, we wish you good reading. Should you have any questions or comments, please feel free to contact me at diana.senechal at vargaszolnok dot hu.

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

Letter from the Editor


Folyosó began in 2020, in response to the Covid pandemic. Since we were holding classes online at the time, I thought that an online journal of students’ writings would provide a counterhumor to our online lives. But now the pandemic restrictions have long been lifted, we have been back in the classrooms for well over a year, and yet the journal continues.

I see several reasons to keep it going. First, it means a lot to some students. not only at Varga, but elsewhere in the world. Second, it offers students a chance to write for an actual readership, not just to complete an assignment—and, along with that, to try their hand at a range of forms and themes. Third, there’s always a need for a counterhumor of some kind.

By “counterhumor” I mean something like a countercurrent. No matter what the state of affairs, the world requires some kind of resistance—whether in the form of social criticism, lyric, painting, or whimsical tales. Writing and reading offer us a diversion from the usual and assumed. This diversion is much more than entertainment; it affects how we see ourselves and others.

This autumn, the international contest offers two kinds of diversion and counterhumor. For the first prompt, students drew connections between various arts; for the second, they wrote pieces of social criticism. Many thanks to my fellow jury members, Judit Kassainé Mrena and Anikó Bánhegyesi, who helped judge the second category (I judged the first category on my own). It was difficult to select the winners, but as in the past, we enjoyed the task.

As of this fall, we are publishing two issues annually instead of three. The next issue will come out in mid-May. Until then, we wish you good reading. Should you have any questions or comments, please feel free to contact me at diana.senechal at vargaszolnok dot hu.

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

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

Letter from the Editor


Winter is in full swing, the year is proceeding sometimes in slow motion, sometimes in a flurry, and somehow, almost out of nowhere, this winter issue came into being. We usually have plenty of pieces set aside from previous semesters or years; that wasn’t the case this time. But with a few requests, invitations, assignments, and encouragements, a plethora of pieces took form. This may be my favorite issue yet, at least in certain ways.

One piece from last fall’s international contest, by Nerses Boztaş (a student at the Lycée Sainte-Pulchérie in Istanbul), had intrigued me with its style and subject matter; I had promised to publish it in the winter issue, after some more editing and correspondence with the author. The final version has the liveliness and intensity of the initial version, along with clearer meaning for a general reader. We are delighted to feature it here.

For one English assignment, I asked students to write a piece inspired by the phrase “straight labyrinth”; if they wished, they could draw on János Pilinszky’s poem “Egyenes labirintus” for inspiration, but this was not required. This resulted in an exceptional variety of interesting pieces—funny, philosophical, melancholic, startling, agonized, matter-of-fact. Eighteen of them are published here in a special section.

Speaking of Pilinszky, you are cordially invited to a free online event hosted by the ALSCW (Association of Literary Scholars, Critics, and Writers) on March 20. While not directly related to Folyosó, it is of possible interest to Folyoso writers and readers. I will be interviewing the poet Csenger Kertai and the musicians/songwriters Sebestyén Czakó-Kuraly (Cz.K. Sebő, Platon Karataev) and Gergely Balla (Platon Karataev) about Pilinszky’s influence on their work and thought. The discussion will be combined with recitations of Pilinszky and performances of the guests’ own work. For more information, see the event website and Facebook page.

Another section of this Folyosó issue features imaginary college application essays, an assignment for American Civilization class. Students were asked to pretend that they were applying to an American college or university and to write an essay in that vein. The purpose was to explore some differences between the educational systems Hungary and the U.S. The results were intriguing and lively.

The issue is rounded out by two dream-stories, two essays (one on walking and one on reading), and three beautiful works of art by Lilla Kassai, the cover artist for this issue.

The next issue will come out in mid-May. In the meantime, stay warm and healthy, come to the Pilinszky event if you wish, and—if you are a Varga student—send us your writing! (Our next international contest will be in the fall.)

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

Letter from the Editor


Another year, another autumn, another Folyosó—but this is much more than repetition. This issue stands out for the sheer abundance and quality of international contest entries, the plethora of forms and styles throughout, the students’ eagerness to revise and perfect their work. More than any other time, students have rethought and rewritten their work independently, sending me one new version after another. This is part of the joy of editing Folyosó: watching the writing take off in so many different ways.

This autumn, many Hungarians and others around the world have been commemorating the 100th anniversary of the poet János Pilinszky’s birth. At the Varga Katalin Gimnázium, on November 25 at 7:55 a.m., three students, all of them contributors to at least four issues of Folyosó, read four Pilinszky poems over the loudspeaker. You can hear their reading here. It is not directly connected to the journal, but we here at Folyosó appreciate a worthy tangent, which sometimes turns out to be the essence of things, not a tangent at all.

A lot goes into preparing and releasing each issue of Folyosó—there’s the typical last-minute rush and hubbub—but we also recognize that thinking, writing, and editing take time. So we often save pieces for future issues. One such piece is “Kumkapı” by Nerses Boztaş, a finalist in the Autumn 2021 international contest, which we will feature in the Winter 2021–2022 issue. We look forward to publishing it!

As for the current issue, where to begin? Start anywhere—maybe at the top, with Roza Kaplan’s startling and moving “Raindrops in the Darkness.” Or perhaps you’re in the mood for an absurdist story-play about two cats with a grand plan. In that case, “How to Become Rich” by Fanni Korpás will be just right. Or perhaps you would like to read a poem that takes visual risks. Zeynep Cicimen’s and-but-so: Simply Written “Eternal Solitude” (accepted) does that and much more. Maybe Áron Antal’s conscience-shaking piece “A Contradiction in Itself” will be one of your first selections, or Borbála Sós’s playful “Dog’s Dream,” or Ecem Göksenin Aday’s eerie yet joyous story “The Reflection,” or Aurelia Wiggins’s bracing poem “On the World.” Wherever you start, we hope that you will continue!

The contest brought in an unprecedented number of submissions, this time from three countries. I would like to thank my fellow jury members, Marianna Jeneiné Fekete and Anikó Bánhegyesi. It was difficult to select the winners, but we enjoyed the task, since the pieces were so interesting.

The next issue will come out in mid-February. In the meantime, we wish you happy reading, or rather, readings of many colors and moods!

Sincerely,

Diana Senechal
Founder and Editor of Folyosó

and-but-so: Simply Written “Eternal Solitude” (accepted)

Zeynep Cicimen


On the Dangers of Social Media

Fanni Pető


Nowadays a lot of people use more and more social platforms. It can be good in many ways, but what is on the other side? Is it always just nice and fun? Unfortunately I do not think so. But why can social media be dangerous or even harmful? What or who affects the users in a negative way?

Many people, especially teens, try to live up to expectations that are too high. They usually try to compare themselves to others, just because they think other people who they see on social media are skinnier, more beautiful, wealthier, or have the “perfect life.” And when they are feeling down, some unkind people make it even worse. They usually write comments like: you should do something about that, you are just lazy, you are just feeling sorry for yourself, instead of working on the things you want to change.

First of all I think other people should not write rude comments to teens who already feel bad. And second of all, it is not as easy as they think. Maybe these people have health problems which are why they cannot lose weight. And also it is nobody’s fault they were not born into a rich family where they had everything. I think these are the main things that affect teenagers and give them the wrong idea of what they’re supposed to be.

And the worst of all: beauty. It may sound ridiculous, but this is a serious problem among teenagers. Because it is also nobody’s fault if they were not born with the face that today’s beauty standard demands. Unfortunately a lot of young people compare themselves to fake models that social media shows them. This can led to a lack of confidence or even worse: self-harm. Because yes, sad to say, but teens can hurt themselves because of others; they can feel they are not good enough, which, in this world, can cause them great mental pain, or maybe depression.

And most of the people out there not only do not help; they make things worse through their lack of acceptance. People like that usually make hurtful remarks about others’ looks: their faces, their bodies or even their clothes. Not only that, but sometimes they even make offensive comments about their personality and behavior, based on a few seconds of one of their videos. And if the people being insulted try to defend themselves, what is their answer? “Why do you expose videos like this if you can’t stand the criticism?” But their words go beyond criticism into meanness. Because remember: words can hurt people, you don’t have to physically hit them to cause even permanent anxiety, lack of self-confidence, or other mental problems in the other person’s soul. It is very painful that some people do not feel the strength of the words they say.

Since a lot of things going on today make little sense, I do not think that your life will be better if you make rude or hurtful comments to or about others. It won’t help you with your own problems. By embarrassing others, you only drag yourself down. So why not stop it? Bullying is the most vulgar and stupid thing you can do. It is bad for you and painful for others.

It is very sad that instead of helping and supporting each other, people just insult and pick on each other.  And this is exactly what we need to change! Let’s try to help and support each other, let’s try to stand up for the weak, let’s try to make this world better and better.

If we want to change this world into a better place, we should stop bullying on the internet and we should start being more accepting, because this is the best solution to one of the biggest problems of our day.

Instead of dealing with other people on the internet, let’s spend time on our human relationships: friends, family! I believe that everybody can change for the better, so let’s get together and make this happen!