I'm sitting on the train. I'm going to some fancy art exhibition at Szentendre. A messy guy puts a porcelain angel and a postcard depicting Székesfehérvár on the windowsill above the bin and moves on without saying a word. I take out my headphones and stop the music. I prepare a coin because I know what this is about. He comes back and holds out his hand. I give him the money readily but I add that he can keep the knick-knacks. He smiles, sits down next to me and starts talking. He tells me honestly about his checkered life, his past and present, and his words seem so true and real that I start to feel sorry for him. He is very cheerful and this is exactly why I feel less and less comfortable. I ask if people give some money to him? He shrugs embarrassed, not so much. I say all right, I'll go with you for one round. I'm good at marketing, I will easily collect a bunch of money for this guy, I think. We hardly walk two meters, the porter says to our litt...