Concrete and gray. Tall and uniform. Identical rectangular windows and iron terraces with uniform blocks for gates to hold in. These are the flat things that rise high all around this city. They show how it is utilitarian and efficient.
But they seem a small part of the story. The myriad floral display and random artistic statements that make their tall lines up and down stand in defiance against a colorless world.
And they all flow to the river Danube. A Bridge and then another. And another too. The Chain bridge (Lanc Hid) the trailblazer. Then there’s the Margit Hid that leads you to monastic roots and quaint beauty that steals your breath and transports you centuries. There’s that glorious new and easiest to travel Erzsebet Hid. She’s white and brilliant and stands in between. There’s the Szabadsag that bows below Lady Liberty. She’s beautiful in all of her unique color and scheme.
Then there are the heights and the spiraling depths of a castle wall. Restoring the beauty that was bombed all across the river and her banks. There’s the spikey Parliament spires that house ever-changing evolving governing tides in the struggle to stabilize in the days of ‘freedom’ from the regime.
There’s the mesmerizing fingerprint of a strong hand and that’s why they come. These different languages and people roaming the downtown.
Coming for the beauty and history that is deep and long and wide and full and tragic and brilliant and worthy.