Processed with VSCOcam with g3 preset

When words cannot explain.

Postered and seen in Berlin, however I never made it to Homies Half this weekend. Bridging the Gap, some totally different gap with an unsuccesful and perhaps on purpose done attempt the other way this time. No run, no fun. Though I ran, but rushed perhaps. Not memorable whatsoever. Gap remains.

Looking at poster kids’ feed known as social media recreational buddies and strangers having fine words put underneath their well filtered social life so called, I envied and missed and remembered. More intensively I liked with doubletapping all.

Adding the rain and the feeling of being left out of something resulted huge clouds over me, even more rain whatsoever, but no drops of cry on the face. But it wasn’t probably the real reason itself. I know how these IG pages work similarly to mine, you sure post when high life happens, the real things might not be as intense and saturated as filtered and remembered in posts. Real. Still, Berlin must have been great. Goes for the rest of the world. But words just cannot give back the real thing.

Words. Said and interpreted, and misunderstood perhaps. I know it’s been said. One day it gives a slap, the next day when true meanings finally pushed to be said out once again, understood differently and therefore reacted on perhaps a totally different way. From devastated to heartwarming, welcome to the real world.

From rain to sunny.
April’s weather like April’s words.
Even though it is still March.
Interpretation leads to questioning leads to therapy running.
This time with a pace quite bearable, though getting my wings back, what a difference a day make. From no run day to run day in a 24 hours turnaround. Just be you.

Starting to understand myself, what is the so called me lately. Mondays are no run days. I believe what I think, and lately I think and believe taking a day off gives no justice to my mood. Closest to the ground I sometimes even wish to hide just like an ostrich. Cannot wait for the next day, because than comes happylife, or so I believe. Why am I making a fvcking routine even out of my mood when I hate routines just as much as the wind. Maybe even more. Mantra-ing just be you. It always happen when weekend is long and communication is limited with online minutes if not seconds.
Naturally words are misunderstood and interpreted based on mood phrases. And also depend on full and half moon, full and half empty stomach, and the deepness of the eyes. Running can help, or so I believe.

Running is so me. Even though sometimes wish balett was me, or something more feminine and more beautiful. But today’s mood tell me I ‘just be you’.

And seriously mantra this over and over, and it might just work. Today it worked the best way. Seem Tuesdays are something special.

Just as running in the morning worked too. Starting in the dark like sneaking into the morning lights, and opening up with the eyes being wide shot to bright open. How the face changes from tiredness to liveliness in no second. From smile to even more smile. Words cannot describe, not that it is needed anyways. Just be you.
The legs do the work, and keep the rhytm by hitting the ground, even when flying. Still a slight etheral touch to embrace. The fine interaction between concrete and designer soles, meaningful attachment. Even if for a short second or less, it is necessary. Law of physics.
Chemistry too. In other ways. Starting from a smile formulated words become loud even if whispering, so close. No misunderstanding here. Silence works too. Today just be you.

What a difference a run makes.
Harmony for Tuesdays.
Tuesdays for everydays please.





A new piece of art hanging on my mother-in-law’s wall. Picture does not give justice, colorwise. The green is actually so overly saturated blindingly unbearable. But I kinda like the actual paint on it. She traded it for some family wine of her little vacay house in Szentgyorgyhegy. Goes (almost) ok as spritz. Well precisely every ten years or so, we get lucky we are able to drink it. Cannot drink much though, so no headache the next day. Pretty awesome.

So many moodswings and never said out loud words stuck in my mind, keeping my face occupied so much, I actually look busy. But cannot concentrate to work, although I’m pretty good with switching my mind when needed.

Contemporary thoughts in no specific order – they are contemporary
Too bad I know that my words are read this time … Anyways …
I feel bad to have so many ifs and I wish-s
I feel bad giving the impression to not care just because I keep a conversation while my daugther is around. I love her, and I’m an ok mother. Or so I hope so.
I feel bad coming home and do the same routines over and over again.
No, I don’t hate it, just want to be somewhere else. Sometimes. Now.
I feel good.
Than I feel bad.
I hate not to take every second of available time with superexcitment. Those times I so wish to finally happen.
And when they happen, I’m not there, least not fully there.
I love that I feel.
And when the moments are over I just feel bad it is already over.
I cannot wait to be Friday.
I just realize I’m casually eating cheese while typing. Cambozola.
Love the fact Cambozola is associated with me, and being thought of me.
I hate that I’m smoking.
It is nice to see how my daugther is watering our noflower flower pots in her balerina outfit and rainboots even though it’s been raining all day.
So occupied with thoughts, while writing emails professionaly mistyping words. My trademark.
No drafts, just words coming to mind.
Wanna be somewhere else.
And wanna be here.
But I just cannot wait for tomorrow.
Mornings are mornings.
Clear and calm with wrinkles but I don’t care.
Loving the wrinkles around the eyes.
Smiling ones.
Lovely ones.
Thinking constantly…
I’m outta here.

when you just write:think:post something meaningful at the same time. Best

Lunch and co.

Processed with VSCOcam with g3 preset

We have a deal with friend/colleague Anna. When working on a hard project – known as selfassured/bighead directors or dop-s, meaning problematic workflow and a lot of complications in terms of they cannot make their so fvcking genious mind of theirs (two theirs on purpose) – we make salad lunches. We swap daily, and we make it pretty awesome. No dressing ever added.
Last week only one shared day with my boo, she prepared the food. Was quick but enjoyable. Rest of the week we had coffe together, was pretty busy otherwise, or never made it to lunch, cause our working hours were streched to the evening, no lunchtime.
So we drank caffeine instead with eating some on the side. Or just eating something and didn’t bother to drink at all. Constant headache as a reward.
Not that I ever had lunch at work. It is either the time to sneak out for a run, or stay at working and act like working. I’m not the kinda person who “forgets” eating however, I do it on purpose. If I eat I need to sleep too. So I rather skip.
Since I never eat lunch, I never go out to lunch.
Never say never though. Lunchtime is on auuw. There should be a first time for everything.

Weekend menace took me to the stage of totally messing up my system, this time not only brainwise. I need to think over my eating habits, it seems to have an effect on my daily life. Pimples are one thing, feeling low is not acceptable.


It is a life . My life. My decisions. Me in the middle, even though I hate to be in the center. All choices are made by me, the ones I don’t choose, those ones especially. Decisions, starting from eating that risotto, drinking that strawberry flavored Ciroc – limited edition of course, brought from Dubai Airport, who the fvck cares, it smells good, must taste good too -, taking way too much cigarette – the more I run, the more I smoke, bodylearning -, the need of loose myself with friends, the dance I just keep doing although I should get ready and take a shower, I’m already late, and taking that ugly gummibear into my mouth, just to realise gelatine is made out of animal ugliness I can’t even think about, so I just throw up and throw the bag of colored bears away. Oh no, I didn’t throw it away, gave it to a homeless lady, standing always at the same place, the intersection I usually pass either when running, or by car. She wears superawesome pants, happy colors, happy design, and she always has a word for me. Or to us, last time she mentioned how love breaked her heart. I hope the gummibear won’t hurt her.
But decisions I gotta make everyday, even when deciding not to decide. Go with the flow. Enjoy. Live.

But how on Earth a tasteful cookie make me feel miserable the next day? Same with wine, same with my thoughts I guess, those need to be digested too.

Drinking tea today, and having a lunch. To feel ok, oreven great.

No make up


This Saturday. Missing my run, missing my smile, missing the one out there.
Late night outing caused guilt made me skip morning run with some additional headache due to overreactively heavy thoughts and perhaps too much non sleeping lately.
Morning was morningish. Felt not good to be awake and get on the go.

It didn’t take too long to realize however, today I go ladylike.
Budapest Fashion Days are on, and I’m on as well. For a monent of so I actually thought of wearing heels, but i rather chose my Riccardo Tisci AF1-s. Brown ones, but I still hesitate to change to the black, or perhaps the white? Too much shoes too many problems. Being loyal to the company I assume, but it probably just being and feeling comfortable in an environment having so much mask and make up on.
I don’t wear make up. Ever. Ok, not true, I was 17 once. I had my part to take on so much base and mascara and lipsticks and so, way too much perhaps. But those were only for shows limited time. Never preferred any stuff on my face in normal life.

Hungarian, or more likely Budapest fashion victims and professionals are no others like the rest of the world. Show off. Smile front, gossip in the back. Gotta know the right people.

I’m scared of them, like I’m scared in any other fashion cities I’ve been too and attanded fashion weeks. You gotta be someone and gotta know someone, you gotta stand out, thats the rule. I’m no good in that if I feel insecure. And I feel enormously insecure with and among label dressed fashion addicts.

But today, I go with the crowd, and I go with friends, gotta know the someones, who are everyday part of the fashion circle of the city. I guess I became one of the Budapest fashion few, the ones being invited to the front row, the ones put make up on and dress up to stand out. Not.
No make up is my trademark to be.

Starting noon with some cooking and drinking we are no ordinary vogue items. We eat rather than starve, we laugh and smile and drink, rather than being nervous of streetphotographers to recognise us. We enjoy.

Long day is ahead. And I missed my running. Today the catwalk runway is my runway. Style2walk ON.




Thanks for the winter. Season to survive in order to enjoy spring even more.
Seriously winter should be white snow, sunshine, and ok weather. No greyness, no low mood, no extreme cold. Or perhaps extreme cold only for occasions when running. In that case it could be chillyfreaking freeze. I like that, because afterwards I feel the reward of getting out and accomplish even more.
But spring is spring. Sun sun sun. Fun. I completely forgot in the otherhand that spring is also windy. I think words cannot describe how much I hate it. No way to ignore, even when feeling the happiest.
And today I feel happy. And annoyed of the mofo wind. Need to run. Need of fresh air. Need to think and not to think. There are things, those unspoken matters that are kept secret in me no matter how much I talk/chat/been asked by and with my friends, closest ones included. Even though I would love to share some words, ever so proudly when you just wanna shout because so excited, there are things noone else’s business. This is dealt inside of me, and while running I can raise the questions may come up in regard. If there are any questions by the way, obvious is obvious.

Today, waking up already tired, headache from surprise surprise not from boozing around this time, but the enormous intake on junk food throughout yesterday. Working with clients mean ugly food, but fun in terms of feeling effective. Because when I didn’t munch on some so called organic cookies (no way these consider healthy at all!) I actually talked. Discussion smart. I can do that too, or so I believe so.

Sometimes looked out of the window and saw the beautiful sunny day, wishing I was out there.

I’m like a flower, turning to the direction of the sun. D vitamin makes me smile, feelings make me happy. Fill me up.

Friday is cloudy, windy and almost no sunshine, although I’m wearing pyjama pants and my favorite givenchy slip-ons (no sneaker chicksinkicks friday omg, it is spring) from so last season, weather seem not to take notice of my need of real spring however. But I just don’t care, it is spring for me, and for this lovely violet too.

Open up


and other things..

When started this therapy session called running, the plan was to go with the flow, and run as much as I wanted. No pace, no race.
Well, after a year of running, I’m pretty sure I moved from stage 1 to something else.
I pace and I race.
One thing remained though. Waking up in the morning so early that although its already almost bright and shine I prefer to go for a go. Morning running is fun. Finishing by the time traffic starts to jam, people start moving on the streets with nosmile, grayscale. Thursdays we go #likeagirl, with ladies coming up with the name gökotta girls. Wintertime we chased the sunrise, them taking photos of the colors. I’m not so good with sunrise sunset photos. Rather enjoy the view, romantic looking photos of the horizon bore me too much unfortunately. In 2D you don’t have the smell, the athmosphere, the touch of realness. Also, I took photography courses (several actually) for too long to know, that I’m more keen to take pictures of people, especially when they have deep thoughts shining through their eyes. Teachers and established photographers also say sunrise/sunset are only for romantic purposes.
Still, admit sunrise is pretty.
People are pretty too.
Not in the morning though, rushing to work, honking in their cars. Tough life of the everydays, eh.

And by 9 am I’m one of them. Irritated already, wonder what would happen if skipped running. So I prefer running pre work.
Even if work is pre run as well. One of those weeks when sleep seems a dream. But I never stop dreaming.

Early morning run is fun, and pretty useful when having a work schedule so tight. Seriously, springtime I prefer the run to the bed and too early is never too early.

Constant smile. Proudness. And a bit of calmness. To own my own day for the rest.

When running the morning alone, my mind having the game on so clear and harsh, still I surprise myself with loosing heavy thoughts to enjoy the feel instead. Which is such a good therapy. Feelgoodrun.
Also opening up to myself, seeing things in more perspective, what really made me mad just half an hour, it is all gone by the moment I pass the 3-4 km mark. Awesome. Wow effect.
Solutions, creativity hits me, like it comes 2am, but I cannot write it down so I just forget.

That’s about my open up morning run, instead of chasing the sunrise, I keep or make myself calm, and by looking out to the world to examine, I explore my inside meanwhile.

Girls vs boys


Overhearing some comments on a girl who always runs with the fast guys made me think the other day.
Obviously this girl is not me, I cannot keep up with the fast big guns, but in the other hand I also like running with males. Though I also like running with girls. Oh, and I like to run alone as well. Most of the times at least.

So what is the big deal with running with guys vs girls or perhaps alone?

I should probably take a more accurate experiment on the topic, but so far these are the subjective facts in regard, starting with the guys:

– guys I run with are usually faster
– they always make jokes along the way, which are usually not funny for me
– guys greet pretty and/or ugly girls while running, after passing they comment on them in such a way, I immediately have a feeling that I’m probably not even considered as a female in the group. There were some occasion I had to have my voice heard and say, heeeey, I’m a girl, watch the tone.
– guys actually small talk and even more suprisingly gossip quite a lot
– they can talk a lot
– but also discuss running in a more scientific manner -chineese to me
– this needs further and deeper check, but not all running men started running because of a major issue in their life (like girls cutting their hair after a break up, or start running haha)

In the other hand, girls I run with are:
– gossiping, but mainly about mommy issues
– they talk about gear, but in such a scientific way it is chineese to me
– they whine. About life in general, or the specific run, or anything. Really anything.
– they smile on photos
– and make their hair before the photo is taken.
– pose
– they start running for a reason, usually more deep meaning than only to loose weight
– girls talk about guys when passing, things like: wow. Unable to talk much more, afterall it is a run, gotta push
– probably talk about running all the time when off running, with occasional whining on topics nonrun related.
– girls are more teammembers, they tend to run together much more.
– take lot of selfies

I run with both girls and guys. Sometimes it is too slow running with the girls, but I prefer to chat. Sometimes it is too fast to run with the guys, but it just feels good to push myself a bit.

And there are girls who are much faster than the guys, and guys so much slower than my therapy runner girl friends. But I don’t run with them, nor I know them. And that is all good. Running community.