My Love, Budapest [antikvár]

wf vyi/y-iinr, . SS a g,i B « ¦ ¦ H q S-3 i tí í ö S I I I I I i S The soutw estem panoraiva of the illuminated Castle FOREWORD o\e is illusion and reality. We know _I e\ervthing about our love - yet v\e know nothing, since we merely daydream about reality. When we think about her, tiny details spring to mind, mosaic pieces of the lovable whole. If they ask us what is she really like, we merely mutter something, imagining that we are revealing important things about her, yet we really talk about our own selves. It's a rhapsodic medley of images and memories. Illusion and reality - her name is Budapest.