Once upon a time, there was a 18-year-old boy who chose nomadic life instead of university studies. He built a chariot with his own hand, and started to wander around Hungary with an ox, a dog and 4 cows. The chariot was pulled by his best friend, Bürök, the ox, as in Hungarian folk tales. Well, he was also a hero of tales, and where he camped for a while, he told folk tales, played his overtone flute and sold his handmade products, like leather, felt, carved wood and cheese. Sometimes he took a casual job. He was very happy with his simple life, and many people loved him. He was a pure-minded, helpful person.
He has recently moved to France, where he continued his journey.
This beautiful but difficult life lasted for 14 years, until yesterday morning, when a 90 years old man hit him by his car as he was walking peacefully next to his chariot. He died instantly.
(Source: https://www.facebook.com/582402138573270/photos/a.583947561752061/1518574341622707/?type=3&theater)
I ask myself: Why did it happen? Why good people should pass away early? I saw his chariot and ox for a short moment several years ago near Székesfehérvár, but I was sitting on a bus. I was just hoping to meet him once and listen to his tales, maybe to buy some goat cheese he made, but this will no longer be possible.
R.I.P † Balázs Gergő Gecse (1986-2018)
More about him in French: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1910129599291793&set=a.1374358386202253&type=3&theater
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1910555145915905&set=a.1374358386202253&type=3&theater