JÁNOS HÁY
Over in Bódva every morning they look up to the sky to see whether or not there are clouds. Whether there are clouds, whether there is none, the sky is still the sky. Over in Bódva every morning they look up to the sky, every cloud is different. One is coloured, another grey; one is small, another big; one comes from afar, another was born here. Each one is different, but they are all clouds, and they’ll stay friends for as long as they’re in the sky. Wind bites into the big cloud, his full tummy bursts open, and rain pours out. Will the small clouds become a big one, if they huddle together? I don’t know. But for sure, all children become adults. Good adults or bad adults. It depends on you, it doesn’t just happen.
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