We’re walking to the conference room, on the side of this big lake that’s Hungary’s equivalent of a seaside. New houses are being built, with tiny gardens overlooking long strips of land growing vineyards in the flickering light of the blue water.
I’m nervous. There’s this secret question bugging me and, on top of it, I’m wondering what in the world I am doing in this group. How did I get here? What are the elements of resonance between us? Never before in my life have I cared about money. I have always been focused on finding and fulfilling my life mission, on becoming a better person but not with the goal of becoming a rich one. So how in the world have I landed here? A long overdue task, perhaps?
He’s holding my hand at all times as if for fear not to lose me to some imposing Hungarian hunk set to kidnap me. Well, actually, for fear I might become oversensitive and try to leave (again). I’m friendly and talkative, but still keep a safe distance out of love for my personal space I do not want to see invaded by some skilled marketers and made their own turf.
I live for the moment and rarely write lines in my head like I used to. I am here, feeling the asphalt under my foot soles, the crisp evening air, the pink sunset, the loud music in the conference room that’s a little bit too aggressive for me and my sensitive disposition.
The hotel room is comfortable enough, although the two mattresses can’t be convinced to stick one next to the other, so there’s this no man’s land, a hole yawning at us from the middle, luring us in when we want to come close. We lose an arm to it, a knee or an entire leg and sometimes the whole body. We make jokes about it and laugh and take turns pulling one another out in desperate attempts to save the other and bring him into our own world.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment the whole day. Ever since we got out of bed this morning.”