I met Roskovics for the first time outside my hotel in Budapest. His easel was before him, as was the picturesque Széchenyi Chain Bridge spanning the Danube (no surprise!). Buda Castle Hill was stretching beyond. Roskovics was focused on this landscape. He paid no attention to the gawkers peeking over his shoulder on the promenade. He was absorbed in his work, crayon in one hand, cigarette in the other, bag at his feet.