I see my twenties in sepia tone — grainy
— not to mention flat.
Should it surprise me that my memories are cast in the hue of old photos?
I never remember owning the pants that I see myself wearing.
It seems to me that if I really remembered that time I should remember the pants.
A kid born today will probably have holographic selfies,
and thus a chance to look back on youth in 3-D,
but it’ll never be quite right, will it?
On the southwestern outskirts of Budapest, there’s a park that collects many of the statues from the Communist era. These are statues that were in prominent locations during the Cold War, but were too historic to destroy. This, the Republic of Councils Monument, is one of the most impressive, and was at XIV. Dózsa György Utca (Felvonulási tér, near the City Park [Varosliget.])
At any rate, the Memento Park is where Communist art goes to be kitsch.