Some people say that Time is a healer, but it depends on each one perspective. You can be wounded a second time. I am a living proof that this may happen. And not every city are good for people looking for love, but Budapest certainly is. Just to give some weight to my statement I suggest you the reading of the novel entitled “Budapest”. The author is the famous Brazilian singer and writer, Chico Buarque de Hollanda. Brazilians, despite being citizens in one of the most politically chaotic countries, they have practically all the paradise corners on Earth. So, this is my humble contribution to the legend…

Széll Kálmán tér, formerly Moszkva tér, i. e., Moscow Square. It is one of the city’s busiest transport interchanges. The central metro station. A crowd crossed the plaza in a busy mood. He have met her a few years before. Well, to be more accurate in Time, twelve years before when he was a Visiting Professor at Eötvös Loránd University, the largest university in Hungary. Now, at his middle age, he returned to give a selected number of talks at Eötvös on political philosophy, and the Department gave to him one apartment contiguous to the apartment where once she lived as a student. Where their passionate relationship had started. That coincidence triggered all memories back again, even if they exchanged only a few letters since that time.

He pulled out from his coat a small piece of paper with straight handwritten instructions, left by her during the previous day in the mailbox. «Take the train at Moskvá Tér in direction of Hösök tere. We meet there».

He took the deep steep descent with the escalator toward the caves of Pest. In the platform, several clocks displayed with rigor the exact time of arrival of the train. With a midst of roar and speed, the train headed to Hösök tere. He was afraid to be in delay, knowing that she was displeased by late arrivals. When he reached the destination, she was already there, near the exit of the underground.

– Just in time! I’m surprised… – she said, with a smile on her face enchanted with deep blue eyes, luminous pink skin, and a blonde hair. “She looks like an angel”, he told himself.

– And you look gorgeous!… – He replied, doing his best to be at her level, a penetrating mind, eager to discover the arcane side of life.

– Oh, you are a gentleman. Thank you … – she clearly appreciated the compliment – See? This is Heroes Square, in front the Andrássy Avenue and this semi circular pillared colonnade is the Millenium Monument, displaying the statues of our kings and leaders that fought for our freedom.

– Oh, you are proud of your country! – He exclaimed, amused, looking deep into her blue eyes.

– Aren’t you of yours? … – she stopped with a gentle interrogation on her face and a melodious tone of voice.

– Not really! … – he replied bluntly.

They visited the nearby museums that surround the Heroes Square, the Museum of Fine Arts, and the Kunsthalle. After the visits, they started silently walking down Andrássy út. This is a magnificent avenue of Budapest with typical buildings of Eastern Europe, certainly enduring in the memory of the refined traveler.

-Are you still fond of your wife? She asked suddenly with a naughty voice while gazing at the majestic buildings.

-How can we define passion? If we like someone, if we are attached to someone, is that passion? – He attempted to defend himself, like in a political cause.

-You are weak… You live with someone that doesn’t love you, that probably even doesn’t make love with you as often as you desire, and you are fond of her. Shame on you! – she riposted.

-And you? Are you now fond of someone? – He tried to divert the focus of the conversation.

-My passion is Life. I am not looking for nothing else but a lover, someone who makes love with me – she stated with a clear voice and no vacillations, looking straight up into the avenue – A lover, a really good lover, is all I want. All the rest has no importance. You guys are all the same.

They continued walking a few more meters in silence until he felt a need to speak.

-You should know that I loved you a lot. You should know it.

-Yeah, yeah. And why you avoided me when I needed you, when I request your company when I begged for your support. So many times. You, big Professor! …

-I am not a “big” Professor, you know that.

-Of course, I know. I surpassed you! I have a better position than you now in my university. It was all about, wasn’t it? You were so occupied with your career in Academia, with your stupid wife that didn’t love you.In a certain way, it is true what you say now. But I made a judgment error. Life is not about a career, it is about love. And, “at my age” – he stressed intentionally, with a gentle smile on his face – I realized that love is the most important in life, nothing else matters…

-In a certain way, it is true what you say now. But I made a judgment error. Life is not about a career, it is about love. And, “at my age” – he stressed intentionally, with a gentle smile on his face – I realized that love is the most important in life, nothing else matters…

-And … “Never opened myself this way, Life is ours, we live it our way, all these words I don’t just say, and nothing else matters” – she sang the old song of Metallica.

-See? I knew you loved that heavy metal band. We still share something – he completed the phrase, looking to that beautiful face and erotic body with a deep desire to make love with her, again, after all these years.

-What? … – she stopped looking straight at him with a kind of feeling, intuition. You still love me?!

-Of course.

She stopped in front of Franz Liszt apartment and proposed to visit what is now a museum. The old lifter was broken and they had to descend the stairs. They descend in silence, again, until she stopped at a corner of the staircase. She undresses the blouse showing her breasts with her typical candid look gazing on him. He took her to the dark corner kissing her lips, neck, and breast with delicacy. He was sure to love that girl, a lot younger than himself.

-Do you still love me? – he asked while kissing, touching her, trying to undress her mini-skirt.

But she was enjoying the moment, just that moment that she waited for so long, with luxury and detachment, not responding to him, however.Do you still love me? …

-Do you still love me? …

-No, I don’t love you anymore – she finally replied, gazing at him with a detached feeling, while he looked at her, surprised, with a profound sadness engraved in his soul.

Then, she pushed him away gently and started to dress again, button-up slowly that white shirt that she often wears without a bra. They descend again the stairs, and he looked at her while she walked away.