It’s about knowing that if you want something badly enough, you can get it. It’s an energy. The energy of knowing that the option is there.”

“I grew up in Hungary. Back then we were cut off from the world. We could only visit other socialist countries. We were always told: ‘The country you live in is enough. You don’t need more. Everything coming from the outside is not good.’ So we were always ten years behind in music. But if you stayed up late, you could listen to an underground radio station from Germany. The frequency barely came through. But I would listen in the kitchen when my parents were asleep. And if Pink Floyd came on, and you managed to record it—it was like gold. You could trade the tape with your friends. My older sister left Hungary when I was nine. She didn’t tell anyone. The police came and questioned our entire family. They called her a dissident. But she’d send me packages from the other side of the Iron Curtain: chocolate, dolls, cool t-shirts. She sent me so many different kinds of things. In our shops at home we only had two choices: this or that. But my sister seemed to live in a place where she could choose anything. And I also wanted to choose. So when I turned twenty-two I hitchhiked to London. And when I arrived—I found choices everywhere. You could buy anything. Study anything. Wear anything. It’s not that I wanted something specific. It had nothing to do with greed. It’s about choice. It’s about knowing that if you want something badly enough, you can get it. It’s an energy. The energy of knowing that the option is there.”
(London, England)

my mother is back home. She’s all alone. She’s growing old. And I don’t want to miss this part of her life. I’m not sure what to do. But I need to decide soon.

She’s my best friend. We live with each other. We’are part of each other. That’s life with cerebral palsy.