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Sleepless Dreams

May 3, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , 1 Comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

If I had all the time I wanted,
I would write a research paper on the history of roller-coasters,
I would spend hours every day in the library reading ancient Greek myths,
I would take a part-time job where all I had to do
was clean babies after they had come out of their mothers,
wash them and then wrap them in their little blankets.
If I had all that time,
I would never say again to anyone,
“Sorry I don’t have time for you now,”
I would write long emails to my family and friends, no,
I would send them real letters.
If I had all the time I wanted,
I would paint flowers and I would knit Christmas stockings,
I would have lunch every day and I would read you this story now.

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The Forgotten Garden

April 12, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

We are just newcomers on this planet. Those, who arrived here before us, have every right to claim that it belongs to them. We marvel at things they hold to be commonplace, and they laugh at our childlike curiosity.

“Look! There’s a cat! It’s coming down the path!” my ten-year-old brother said and pointed down the valley.

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Budapest Bus Number Eight

April 5, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Bus Number Eight shudders to a halt at its final stop at Gazdagrét and gives a big sigh.

“Pssssssssshhhhhh,” he says and opens his doors.

His passengers clamber down the steep stairs. One of them, an old lady carrying a large basket, heads for the grocery store across the street. Two young mothers with strollers and gurgling babies help each other get off the bus, then walk towards the park hiding among the eleven-storied apartment blocks.

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Why are the Clouds so Pretty?

April 2, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Have you ever wondered why are the clouds so pretty?

Well, there was once a Butterfly, who wanted to find the answer to that question. This Butterfly decided to fly to the clouds, and she was very determined. Nobody could talk her out of that resolution, and no argument or reasoning could persuade her to change her mind. When her friends saw they had tried everything, and she only became more stubborn, they changed their ground.

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For My Father

March 10, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , 1 Comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Dad!

For the first time in my life, I don’t know which way to go.

When I was little, it was easy. I just had to follow the arrows, and they lead me to you. You drew them on the sidewalks with white chalk so that I would find my way from the playground to your workplace. Do you remember? You used to let me play as long as I wanted, but you never stayed with me. The work couldn’t wait, you used to say. But before you left, you always made sure the arrows were still visible on the sidewalks. If the rain had washed them away, you drew them again.

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An Ant Tale

February 24, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

The little Ant was on her way home from work, and she was pushing a large breadcrumb in front of her.

“Heave-ho, heave-ho,” she kept repeating. At every ‘heave,’ she gathered her strength, and at every ‘ho,’ she thrust the crumb forward. Every day, she crawled along the same path this way. That was why she wasn’t looking left or right, she just went on briskly, so that she would be back at the nest as soon as possible.

“Hi! How are you?” a friend greeted her when she arrived at the nest. The little Ant was about to tell her how she was, but her friend didn’t wait for a reply. She ran along after her business. Then another friend came by.

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Cinders

February 5, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

It was Sunday evening again, and on every Sunday evening, I wanted to die.

“Cindy! Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice calling me.

I was in the living room watching an episode of my favorite TV show that I had recorded on the Friday before. I knew my mother wanted to say that it was already eleven, and that I had school the following day, but that was something I didn’t want to hear. On Sunday evenings, I just wanted to bury myself somewhere and not come out until Friday, or drink some kind of magical medicine like Juliet, so that I could sleep deeply for days and wouldn’t have to do anything.

“So here you are hiding!”

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New York 1999

January 27, 2001 By in Go Inside Tags: , , Leave a comment

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

The Pigeon and the Little Parrot
The pigeon lived in the city. Every day, when the sun came up, he would be thinking that maybe that would be the day when he would die of hunger. And every winter evening, when the sun went down, he would be afraid that on that night he would freeze to death. He had nothing but his freedom to enjoy in his life.

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