White lies, black lies and the greyish ones in between.



By the Vakum Design Shop, Hajógyári Island, Budapest.



Every child knows they shouldn't tell lies. Mums and Dads tell them they shouldn't, teachers tell them they shouldn't and even God told Moses that telling lies is one of the 10 big don'ts. Children know it, adults know it and yet the world is interwoven with a huge web of deceit, some strands thick and coarse like fishermen's rope and some strands silky, shimmering threads; all lies nevertheless.
There are the lies we tell to children to preserve their innocence, protecting them from unnecessary information until they're old enough to absorb and understand the truth. There are the lies we tell them to make their childhood magical and mystical and full of the possibilities and hope, nurturing their imaginations. These are not white lies. They're not the kind of lie that holds back on elements of the truth in order to soften a blow or preserve someone's feelings, but they are atually complete and utter untruths. If not white though, I certainly don't think they're black, in fact I think they're rainbow coloured. Happy lies that create happy liers and happy listeners and if everybody's happy then surely the act of lying isn't sinful and awful but in fact very good.
Carefully considered white lies are good too. But only carefully considered ones. If someone is tone deaf and has the most unpleasant singing voice in the world, telling them they sound great so you won't hurt their feelings is not a good white lie. In fact, that becomes a dark grey lie. Protection for the rest of the world from the noise, and protection from ridicule for the singer, is in the hands of the potential liar or truth-giver.
Then there's simply holding back the truth. This isn't lying, it's just avoiding being honest and in many ways, I think it's as bad as telling those lies that we shouldn't tell. It creates emotional turmoil, not caused by guilt, but by the retention of feelings and the truth. It's an invisible barrier between the peaceful place of openness and honesty and the tormented place of deception. Fear is a sad thing. Fear of change, fear of consequences, fear of hurt, fear of the unknown. Honesty and truth are what we should expet from each other and yet that web of untruth that covers the world, woven by fear, still hovers and prevents the escape to freedom that comes from honesty.
Maybe a reversion back to childhood where the frequent warnings against telling lies were more scary than witholding the truth is what we all need. If all lies were rainbow coloured I think the world would be a much happier place*

Budapest

I'm based in Budapest at the moment. It's an erasmus placement for 3 months. I'm coming close to the end now and though it seems like a long time to spend somewhere, I don't think for me, it's enough. A hint of familiarity starts to develop and yet can't manage to blossom into anything, be it love or distaste, as the period ends and what may have been is simply dissolved into obscurity.

It's a place like no other I've spent any significant amount of time. The people are different, the language, the history, the attitudes, the buildings and even the light. The sunlight is incredible in this city.. it bathes the buildings in intense deep light and casts such dark contrasting shadows. In the tree filled parks the colours and light are almost sureal in their strength. Perhaps I've simply been blessed with experiencing weather conditions which show up Budapest to its best potential or perhaps it has nothing to do with the weather or the light, but the bright days seem to perform a sort of magic and truly allow you to be enchanted by the city*

The view from my window of the buildings on the street
 and Keleti Train Station.

Autumn in City Park.

Looking out on the Danube from Margaret Island.

Some birds sing sweet songs, and some just can't.