This is a famous passage from one of my absolute favourite poets, Attila József — Hungarian, like me — from his poem Eszmélet (“Consciousness” / “Awareness”). “Az meglett ember, akinek szívében nincs se anyja, apja… ezért őrzi meg…” There is something deeply powerful in the traditional Hungarian language and philosophical temperament woven through this poem. The paradox is extraordinary: life is temporary, fragile, and “may be returned at any time like a found object” — yet precisely because of this, it must be preserved carefully. Attila József reverses the usual logic. Life becomes precious not because we own it forever, but because we do not.