There’s a small moment from recently that hasn’t really left me. It was a misunderstood remark. Something meant as a joke, landing the wrong way. For a brief moment, the space tightened. Then someone tossed it back into play: “So why is it okay for you?” It turned into laughter. Not because we “resolved” anything — but because the tension disappeared. And only afterwards did I realise why that mattered. ...

There are always people who do well even within a system that seems flawed. Not because the system works well. But because they know what truly matters. What’s interesting is that these people are rarely happy in isolation. They tend to thrive when they are present in their communities as well — when they contribute, connect, and share real experiences. The more living, genuine connections someone has around them, the more stable and resilient the whole network becomes. ...

Discussions around the Great Pyramid of Khufu have never really been about who built it — at least not for me. They’re far more interesting as a lens into what happens to a system when one of its core assumptions turns out to be wrong. The real “risk” isn’t that new information emerges. It’s that an axiom collapses. An unspoken foundation on which explanations, narratives, and collective self-images have quietly rested. ...

If everything is working properly, why has secrecy become the default? Interestingly, the same logic appears at different levels. States conceal information — and call it protection. Individuals hide things — and experience it as self-protection. The pattern is the same, only the scale changes. Systems tend to reward concealment. Those who reveal less take fewer risks. Those who stay silent more skilfully remain safe. And after a while, we stop asking whether this is actually healthy. ...

There is a detail near the Great Pyramid of Giza that we rarely talk about. Yet a lot depends on it. Not hidden chambers. Not underground cities. Not radar speculation. ...

There is another layer we rarely articulate when we talk about culture. Yet so much depends on it. For me, culture is not only tradition, not only language, not only memory. It is space. A space we use together. Culture becomes alive not when I am free, but when you can be free next to me. ...

Today, a post crossed my feed on the Day of Hungarian Culture. It was about what culture means to me. Human experiences. Memories. National motifs. And yet, something was missing. As I started thinking about it, one thing became clear: We often describe culture as an internal experience. But most of the cultures we talk about in everyday life are not internal at all. They are ways of living together. ...

Today I came across a text from 1320. It’s called the Declaration of Arbroath. And I paused for a moment. Not because it’s old. But because it felt unexpectedly familiar. In it, a community explains why it keeps its leader. And also when it would not. Not bloodline. Not rank. Not “this is how it’s always been”. ...

(how this blog was built — not technically, but humanly) Let’s start with why, not how. I didn’t want a blog. I wanted a place where thoughts don’t disappear into a feed. Something durable. A space of my own. Not driven by algorithms. So we began with what this blog does not want. It doesn’t want to demand attention. It doesn’t want to decide for you. It doesn’t want to be “smarter” than you. ...

I didn’t build a blog. At some point, I realised: what was forming was a place. At first, I thought the hard part would be the technical side. Domain. Hosting. Deploy. DNS. SSL. Surprisingly, those were the easiest. ...