Mással sose bánnék így

From the artist:

Outward ease, inward discipline

I love myself the most when I can no longer move from exhaustion.

Rest is shame. Comfort is weakness.

The only thing I truly respect is the power of will.

I will keep walking until my leg breaks.

How could I say no to others if I’m not even capable of saying no to myself?

The world conditions us for extreme compulsive productivity. My own injuries resonate perfectly with this. I define my worth through my productivity.

If I eradicate capitalism from my own heart, there will be less of it in the world as well.

It’s 4 a.m., I’m covering myself with my dirty laundry on a urine-smelling FlixBus, but listening to music makes up for everything.

Part of me would rather be in the black wasteland than on the vehicle passing through it, but the outer calm and stillness are quickly condemned by inner discipline — and most of all, the desire to rest.

I rise, and the sun is getting ready too.

On the road, the dashed lines blur into one. I look out the window, fall into the landscape, feel myself tearing away from Munich, then Vienna, and heading home.

It’s strange how many places I’m connected to — so many big cities and small ones, and the people in them who take me in. Who treat me as if we’ve known each other for years. I’m given keys to their apartments, I sleep in their beds, I shower with their soap. How long can one live like this?

Spinning with the Earth endlessly.

From A to B.

Setting off, traveling, arriving.

This isn’t something being done to me.

I’m doing this to myself.

For now, the treasures of loneliness have not faded, and suffering only makes them stand out more. That’s why I have to push myself endlessly, exhaust myself into immobility, chase myself until death.

I inherited the anger from my father — the one now driving me across half the world. It feels like inexhaustible energy, but I know well: if I don’t change it, sooner or later it will consume me.

I see how generations shaped pain into anger before it reached me, and I see how it feeds me the same way it fed them — and I’m afraid it will destroy me the same way.

But how could I rid myself of something I’ve been building from for decades? Something that has become so deeply part of my identity that I can no longer imagine who I might be without it?

The rays of the rising sun hurt my eyes. I test how long I can stare into it.

It’s 6 a.m.

I’ve reached the limit.

Aqb D7 Studio

Music by: Ryu

Organized by: Enikő