Laszlo Malota captures the tragic circumstances of the interesting lives of lost family members with frightening authenticity. And he can sees the shadows of the dead who bear endless reminders of a past that can only be revived in our memories.

His return was motivated by the deathly illness of an old love, the same person who caused him to leave, who wanted to see the writer one last time to impart her shocking and emotionally charged secret.

Not just the wondrous scenery of the buried past, the gardens which remind him of his childhood, and the memories of playgrounds plague the author, but also the feelings beginning to bloom in him again, feelings he tried to escape from by going to Rome, but that he never could get rid of.

This is the tenth book by one of the best known Hungarian authors. It’s a shockingly honest confession. It’s an attempt to rebuild the past, the memory of which is equally joyous and unbearably sad. And unimaginably dangerous.