Légy jó mindhalálig

A nervous newcomer arrives at a heavy‑set collegiate dorm, where the stone corridors echo with the clatter of wooden shoes and a chorus of sparrows. He takes up a solitary corner bed, delighted by its tiny, castle‑like privacy, and spends his first days rummaging through a green‑painted drawer filled with Latin textbooks and a coveted volume on the poet Csokonai. The book’s modest cover, displayed in a dusty shop window, becomes his secret obsession, even as he hesitates to part with the modest allowance his parents gave him.

One morning the shop’s assistant sweeps away every volume, loading them into a tall pile before the bell for class rings. The young student watches, bewildered, as the shelves go empty, fearing that the prized Csokonai might vanish forever. His mind races with imagined buyers and a growing sense of loss, setting the tone for the quiet, introspective journey that follows.