(Scroll down for the Hungarian version - A magyar cikket lejjebb találod)
I walk and count the falling leaves. Golden flakes of bittersweet. There’s magic among these trees.
Do I know this place? Have I been here before? It looks familiar but somehow new, like many paths I’ve taken before. Like many decisions I have made. I watch my steps, as I do in life. The ground can get slippery, the leaves can hide twigs and roots. But there’s so much that robs my attention. The sounds, the smells, the colours, the light between the branches. Where should I look first? Which turn should I take?
I feel like collecting the leaves, but instead, I choose to roll around in them. There’s nobody here, just me. I can do whatever I want. I stay for minutes, inhaling the syrupy scents. Each one is a little different. I breathe and re-breathe, I want to fill myself with this moment. Everything is heavily saturated around me. Nature sure knows how to stage a grand finale before winter takes its broom and sweeps away all its colour.
As I look up, a new map outlines itself between the crowns of the trees. The longer I look, the larger it becomes. I see unfolding territories, expanding borders, exotic places and adventures. The mind is a truly wonderful thing. I mark my favourite places with the bigger leaves I see, still holding on to their branches. I sit up, take my notebook and pencil and decide to draw this map. I will frame it and hang it in my office at home. These leaves will disappear by the time I come back again and I need to see this map for longer. I want to tick those leaves off one by one, after I’ve discovered all the magical places they have marked.
Winter is approaching. I look at the trees again. I’m happy to see they have grown so close. Trees can’t bend after a certain age, they just grow closer with every passing year. Their roots entwine, their crowns meet, they share the ground they live in, they protect each other from harsh winter winds. There’s so much tenderness in how their thin branches seem to stroke the trees closest to them.
There’s a slight tension, as I walk away. Everything is silent. If feels like nature is holding its breath, waiting for me to leave before blowing all these leaves away. It will exhale soon, in gusts of icy winds, but I have my map with me already. All drawn and planned, for things to do and places to go.
My hand slips into my pocket, I touch the roll of paper. It feels warm now. I smile as I listen to the dry leaves under my feet. They rustle, making as much noise as possible, turning my footsteps into a little parade. There’s magic among these trees.
Varázslat van e fák között
Séta közben, számolom a hulló leveleket. A keserédes arany pelyheit. Varázslat van e fák között.
Ismerem ezt a helyet? Voltam már itt korábban? Ismerősnek tűnik, de valahogy mégis új, mint számos más út amit már korábban bejártam. Mint számos korábbi döntés amit már meghoztam. Figyelem a lépéseimet, mint ahogy azt az életben is teszem. A talaj könnyen csúszóssá válhat, a levelek ágakat és gyökereket rejthetnek. Ugyanakkor annyi minden van, ami elveszi a figyelmemet. A hangok, az illatok, a színek, a faágakon átszűrődő fények. Hová nézzek először? Melyik kanyart válasszam?