Budapest Walks - Terraced Boots

We walk hand-in-hand, treading down the dusty heat of a Budapest summer evening past. Across a bridge where streaming traffic now lies stilled.

The shimmering Danube and a terrace of silent iron-boots hammered into the bank outside Parliament. They were shot here, their bodies disappearing beneath the thick, black night-waters. We watch the sun disappear.

Reflections on a Budapest Sunday.