For what others torment our past?

From the blog some cutting I would like to write a thing down.I never wrote a blog yet and I would like this to have a honest Hungarian name.It gave the starting shove,that a French postcard collector opened a blog and shocking one on a manner his first topic the Hungarian postcards were.
He onto a honest dealer's manner from this direction sent a notification.I registered nicely into the audience and the thing started turning into interesting one then.The questions came.
His first topic the Hungarian New-Year's cards were and slightly was getting confused.Why?
Did not know it where to do the ladybird, the horseshoe, the toadstool and the others on the New-Year's postcards .The answer in the specific Hungarian myths, symbols, habits that is availing himself of one single expression:in our little region's common self-awareness to be been looking for.
I being surprised,but I answered gladly and I recoiled.Why I explain to a French,when there are people who never brooded over the symbols appearing on the postcards yet at home.They believe it so moreover,that the postcard existed always in our little world.This the starting point was a back.
The unconcern for the greeting cards around 1900 which can be observed in our homeland or artist sheets gave the next shove.I would notice it here,that other nations an embossed one like this, a graphic designer pay a high price really,with flowers larded for a romantic cards or artistic postcards.
Few people know that our famous painter, Csontváry is first for example his drawings and his nature depictions appeared on unmarked postcards.For what this indifference?From where we may know it,that single Csontváry does not wander over between our hand?
There is a collector circle in one taking shape though,but this positively thematic and does not wish to gather the cards belonging to his field of interest globally you are it with this related other informations.Though not so big this country.He finds out the contacts in an information set unintentionally really if a big amount of postcards run over relatively between the man's hands.

The postcard today slowly already an extinct habit,because it is replaced by the virtual world slowly.I am sorry that he is so.Again here one why?
My answer:It was necessary to buy the sheet,to this it was necessary to go between people_nation.Between the people_nation ,onto any amount we had a sullen mood same day,it was necessary to behave cultured.It was necessary to say that word,that:please.It was necessary to write the postcard and it was necessary to lead onto the post or to give instructions to the servant,how he should take it away.So that's all human activity.

The people_nation do not approach each other today. There are not wars when the poorest woman went away into the office in order to buy a satin rose card and let him send it to his love on the front.
There was not cheap really. The old papers quasi like that, than an artistic creation. The satin little dresses of rose petals, the little angels, the cards coloured with the hand, the landscapes painted with the own hands cut from silk, flowery cards, from which the fragrance that it added to a flower just flew away, our senses associate. Yes, the flower scented postcards existed as he was made of the real hair lady portraits.
All this sounds so, than something did not occur, on a glass mountain tale, which one the man of the today switched over you are funny but totally impersonal capable one which can just be being sent on the internet on the mobile phone onto messages.
That past intestine woman paid a serious attention to the selection of the postcard. It would be possible to list a numberless example of my collection, but my heart after all that kindest one, when it to write village-woman can hardly, maybe just the flickering light of the servant's room the expensive one, flowery one took it out, you are just kind micaceous postcard, which it may be that he had a monthly payment, and addressed it onto the front.She needed a couple of rows only onto these old papers and it did not write about it because of then manners or human keeping, how "I love you", "I adore you", "I miss you", but from the everyday life.

Wrote about it, that:" Dear my husband ,all order at home, your small son goes to a school already." That beautiful postcard related her feelings instead. That woman gave her soul.
What we give to each other? We do not sit down and we do not embroider, and we do not paint onto silk, that it then onto a plain card somehow stick.
We do not ask residual one from the thread and we do not want from the residual silk substance, which was left out from the rich lady's dresses. We do not know what is the difference between two postcards.
We are not interested in who may have done it, who was the publisher, who was the photographer, who and on a what kind of manner printed the postcard.
What does not interest and this finally the today's world is valid for his postcard collectors in a big percentage unfortunately: that postcard his back side.
Who did they address it to? Who signed it? Who resides behind the poem puzzles?I met many postcards already.
A postcard, which his Hungarian author friends wrote to a Hungarian authoress, was like that between them,but this interested nobody.Something that Landler Jenő signed was not concerned between them after all no one. Was like that between them, which one Horthy family got-this 200HUF understands in the today's world. What Csortos Gyula wrote jovially was between them from a cafe,together with more Transylvanian prominent person.Osváth Jenő and his siblings mean something to us only yet?A postcard, which the person who showed us firstly wrote, was like that between them the movie.The ladies who were famous as Parisian Moulin Rouge stars next debuted at this man.That big one with bitterness full postcard though,that Czája János our sixfold professional wrestling world champion wrote home from a Turkey competition,because he was Hungarian everywhere -well this card serious 250HUF represented a value.

Vera:
And we did all this hard work during the sugar - what they called the campaign of the factory.
Title: PHOTOGRAPHS
Vera:
But after that one had time to travel. And my mother was very pleased to have the fraulein and the two children there.
This was in Italy. Can you think of a lovelier spot? The mountains, the sea, the old buildings. I’ve got photographs of all this. I ought to take my photographs out to remind my poor head.
Vesuvius. It’s very, very few people who see this, or take the picture. Now we go somewhere else.
And there was this photographer who was interested in these. Kleinberger was his name. Now I remember. And he said, ‘You have marvellous pictures. Let me enlarge them.’ He didn’t just enlarge them. He retouched them I think. But this I think is a very successful picture. He was so delighted with my photography.
If ever you get a chance to go to Spain and don’t grudge time these places which the Arabs have built are just magnificent.

Title: EDDI
Vera:
‘Eddi.’
Ah ha, gosh what a good film it is. You see I wear no hat. There you can see what straight hair I had. And that's my mother and the pram with Eddi in it. You can see, 'Zuhause in Ripiceni.’ Well of all things!
I felt that the best thing for me is to go back to Sárvár and have the baby there. The doctor said, 'Since my university days I haven't assisted at a child's birth, but I don't know what to do with the baby.’ So the midwife arrived and she quickly bathed the baby and she stayed for a fortnight in the house. Would you believe it, a fortnight?
'Fünf Monate alt.’ Five months old.
Music cue: I Lift Up My Finger and I Say, ‘Tweet Tweet’
Vera:
Oh look at him. He’d just had his vaccination.
And that is in the playpen. The wood tastes very good. And that’s when he started to crawl all over the place. There we go. Oh look at that. Now he is walking.
‘Beim Balaton.’ That’s the old granny. And that’s Lily there I think. And that’s Bob. He didn’t like to be splashed.
‘Eddi macht tuff tuff.’ ‘Tuff tuff’ is on the car.
He was a lively one. Isn’t he a lovely child? Aren’t you lovely? Yes.
There is Bob. I thought the world of him.
I had no nanny. I had a good cook and a good housemaid, so that was enough.

Title: TRAVELS
Music cue: Tain’t What You Do
Vera:
Naples, Paris, Milan, Köln, Vienna, Nice, Venice, Amsterdam.
I knew next to nothing about Britain except when they invited my father to see the first sugar factory that was built in Britain in Bury St. Edmonds. And I had just finished my secondary school and my father said, ‘If you have good results from the school you can come with me to England.’
A colleague of my father's, who worked in Budapest, he said, ‘My daughter has just spent a year in London and she is still there through the summer.’ And this girl - Annie Bergel was her name - showed me London and I don't know what other places, lots and lots of other places. And you know I think that girl returned to her family in Hungary and they all died. They took them to the concentration camps. Ja.
There was a great exhibition just outside Paris. France had lots of colonies. ‘Colonial exhibition.’ That's what it was called and we thought that would be very, very interesting to see.
There you are. All the people on the bicycle. ‘In Fischerdorf Vollendamm.’ Oh look at that. I wonder whether that still exists.

Title: ELEMENTAL FILMS PRESENTS

VERA EISNER élete

(kisfilmek zenéje a Magyar Jazzkutatási Társaság lemezéről)

Title: RIPICENI
Music cue: Solitude
Vera:
So when did I get married? Nineteen twenty-nine, I think. At nineteen.
Bob said, ‘What would you think of Egypt?' I said, 'Egypt? I'd love it.' And I did!
On the way back we took a ship that went to the Black Sea port in Romania. Bob was asked would he mind taking over the running of the factory in Ripiceni. If you know where that is. We would have gone straight to Ripiceni but there was such a snowstorm that the train, everything was stopped. So we stayed in Bucharest for a few days. And the owner of the sugar factory in Ripiceni was living in great luxury with his wife and the wife said, 'You have plenty of time to get to Ripiceni, you will soon know it - enjoy it while you're not there.’
Nowhere was there such a poverty stricken village as Ripiceni was. Very remote. It's at the end of the world it seemed.