But why would Budapest cease to stick to this restless order

Damn the law, beat policemen, chase away the homeless from their cardboard worlds, knock over the plates of beggars, sell drugs, sell contaminated drugs, understand the beats of your heart that are even darker than this, beg for the love of the destitute, create new laws for them and violate them immediately. Orient yourself on the maps drawn by the scribbling on the walls, see the fairy-tale order that reigns in the city. But why would Budapest cease to stick to this restless order,to the hatred painted on the walls, these are its signposts, its guidelines in a purgatory keen to uphold its honor. Maybe, if it let go, its outlines would fade, they would turn opaque like an old picture, weak, black and white, they would cease to be real. Its borders would dissolve and the city would rise to the sky.

Translated from Hungarian by Andrea Lövenberger