Sorting To Be Done

A few months ago.

Just the usual rush toward the highway. Filling up the tank, traffic jams, red lights, blinker to the right, blinker to the left. An hour and a half to Miskolc. The radio’s on. Some interior designer is talking about why sorting things out matters. How to let go of the things you don’t need. Books, trinkets. Something like this: donate them or sell them. The essence is simple—if something’s gone and you still miss it afterwards, get it back, or surround yourself with it again. At least then it won’t just be gathering dust around you.

…

Now.

Mandatory-recommended leisure time, condemned to a minimum of one and a half meters of separation. Parks filled with families. Fathers who normally toil nonstop are out biking and rollerblading with their kids. People tending their gardens around their houses. The air hasn’t been this clean in the city for at least ten years. Pensioners taking their one daily walk through the streets. Dog owners with their companions. Couples who have never spent this much real time together. Starved for the world beyond their four walls.

A multitude freed from clutter and excess.

If there’s anything good in all this, perhaps it’s this: after these few weeks or months—who knows?—everyone will have their answers ready.

Who do you want to meet?

Where do you want to travel?

What do you want to see, try, acquire, taste, discover?

What comes next, and how?

So what are the things that are truly essential? The things you cannot let go of. The things no substitute, no virtual version can replace.

Until then, there’s sorting to be done.