I’ll never forget walking up to Hősök tere, Heroes’ Square, at about ten thirty on my last night in Budapest. In 1989, 250,000 people had gathered in the square for the reburial of Imre Nagy – alongside the heroic Pál Maléter and others – but that night I found myself alone amidst the indescribable beauty and grandeur of the millennium monument and its colonnades. I wandered to the middle of the square, exactly central, sat cross legged on the ground and relaxed; a lone rollerblader glided gracefully by and circled the monuments, as if sent by some benevolent choreographer to perform a silent ballet and add to the...
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