You learn, hopefully early on, that even in the midst of some great experience, there is abnegation, meaninglessness. There is sadness where you are supposed to find only happiness. Darkness that actually helps to define light, what have you. Yadda, fucking, yadda yadda yadda. And so there are lost days, even autumn days aching with crisp perfection. Even days when you have all the riches of a new city at your feet. You don't sleep well and awaken late. Are held hostage by banalities and taunted by the hieroglyphs of foreign washer-dryers. By simple banking transactions which are rendered Byzantine in their necessary steps and several financial establishments. But you are able to drift down to that nice stationers in tourist-thronged Belvaros. Jump on the 2 tram which runs along the Pest side of the Danube. Alight before the city's fairly stupendous Parliament which would seem to humble the Gothic prete...