One thing I had not really expected was the vastness of the Puszta, the plain which starts in Hungary, stretches through the Ukraine and southern Russia, skirting the Urals and continuing into the Steppes of Central Asia.
The space was spell-binding, and brought out an unaccustomed lyricism in my thoughts. Dehydration and a huge intake of Hungarian wine also contributed. And so I wrote this in a very ethereal state of mind…
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