The memory of some places stirs sensually, providing the scenes for a film like sequence in memory years later. For me it is a combination of impressions, sometimes imprinted from actual films or literature or other cultural references. Sometimes it’s a soul stirring sensation or a cerebral connection to the place made long before first meet.
Budapest, however, was a relatively blank slate for me. From a photography perspective, I saw interesting frames everywhere. Classic moments felt like the opening scenes to your own black & white, while other moments are tiny but bright & bursting, the heart & meaning of a poem.
The spaces of the city were compelling, as were the moods. Simple but delicious meals one writes into the pages of a novella, the light, fragrant essence of a local flower that ypu buy in a small shop off a main squate & later dab gently on your neck & that languid late summer feeling specific to the location on an August night.
If you have planned your journey a certain way, there is as much enjoyment in retiring to your room at night as there is readiness to leave it in the morning. Perhaps after a thermal bath & sauna in a nearby spa, you retreat, allowing the foreign, yet soothing, hum of the evening air as you settle in, content to call it a day & softly give in to sleep, pave the way for a bright morning mood in a city still utterly new to you.