The number you see in the title is the number of people who died from Covid in my country before this morning. To me, this is what this year’s Good Friday is about.
don’t celebrate the pandemic—I am celebrating language access. Covid1001, a group of Hungarian translators who combat misinformation by publishing scientific articles about Covid in Hugarian, turned 1 year old last week.
Whether we like it or not, the United States are part of our lives, and so are its notable days—so much so that, from the 90s, we had gradually begun to observe some of them. Thanksgiving is no exception, so I wasn’t surprised to actually have a few thoughts about giving thanks, even on a busy working day we had over here yesterday.—The Quarantine Diaries are back with this post
Recent events all but shut me down. But there are things to write and things to do, so I went on a quest of mental housekeeping. By means of a hike in the Mátra mountains.
Happiest birthday to my lifelong travel companion!
The Pentecost has an amazing story about language and understanding.
Yesterday, in his Instagram story, my son* posted a picture about George Floyd. It’s a still image from a news flash about his murder. My son also added an expletive.
Venturing outside our city for the first time in ten weeks, we could go on a little hike with my mum and dad and their dog Walnut.
Lockdown has eased, and one of Budapest’s iconic places is open again. I’m carefully extending my range but I will also continue to home-office and physical-distance.
A game of time travel: look at a historic building, and invent a story that might have happened there. Fantasy elements are absolutely allowed.