a moral tale

The story about a dog which didn’t like a man...

There was a dog, red-haired, small, very similar to a small fox with the row of small but extremely sharp teeth. There was a path around the small housing estate. The path led through some bushes and long grass. It was usually used by walkers and dogs.
There was a businessman with a black leather suitcase, crossing the car park, on his way home.
- Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!

The time stopped. The man skipping with the dog hanging at his leg.
The time exploded.
We observed the businessman discovered some issues about the values of his miserable life. The kind of trauma experience would ever stay in his memory... The dog tasted blood, its eyes more red-brown, teeth wanted more...
What’s the moral?

You don’t know who, when and where will bite to remind you the sense of whatever.

more about spring

Right, uuuhhh...
Spring. Some allergies, some rain and sunny spells... People are coughing and sneezing. They are suffering from the spring. Once did I suffer, few weeks ago? Treacherous sun shone at me and burnt my skin... I looked like a strawberry. Headache couldn’t allow me to think. My reflections were burnt into black ash.

Laziness - the effect of constantly changing weather. It rains, it blows, a little bit of sunshine, it rains again. Very tiring. Just listen to the music and have some dreams, look through the window and eavesdrop others, observe their lives, guess their future... Perhaps, there is somebody who does the same with my existence? What about you who has just read that idea?

spring

Spring has sprung high in the green, touched the sky and kissed the sun.
It's really nice. Thousands of Poles has been escaping from big cities to catch a little bit of the miracle (fresh air, sun, water and kids around). They are waiting in traffic jams, kilometers away from the destiny, hoping the nightmare is close to the end, almost smelling the grilled sausages.
Others, stuck inside the shopping malls, unhappy because of the business (too little clients - owners) or (too many clients - assistants).
Anothers, opening their computers, are wondering "what the hell am I doing?" but... the yellow cursor is glittering on a screen, the heart is beating stronger and louder. Fine...

JP2

Few missing words

I haven’t written for such a long time but now I am not able to write anything except: JP2

I am not a papist. I don’t feel like a catholic. I was brought up to be a catholic though. My mother promised on the day of my christening, in presence of the bishop and his boss (God) that she would do everything she could to make me believe in Christian God. And she really tried and did her best. I went to church at least once a week; I was active during each kind of holidays, my parents tried to answer my most difficult and strange questions. However, I was growing up and as it is natural, my parents lost their control over my soul.
While discovering the dark side of Church on my own (it’s bloody history, crimes, injustice, hierarchy, money, money, money UUUhhh) I realized I didn’t want to have anything in common with such a hypocritical institution. Moreover, the institution itself did me a favour to shut me out of it’s room. The parson in a church to which our family was written to belong (sometimes people choose their own church but most of them are members of the nearest church in the place they live), decided to cross me out the list of people being the members of this particular parish. Still I wonder what caused him to do it so radically. After having checked some kind of notes he told me: “I don’t think you are our member any more.” And he hung the phone up. In such a way my adventure with the Holy Church has stopped. My personal dialogue with God has started.

However, the second day of April, before my birthday the Christian God decided to take the Pope John Paul II to his kingdom.
Happy Birthday!!!– the God spoke to me...
Anyway, it was the time when I started to think about my faith, my poor country, life and death and some other crucial issues without any supreme answer.

My poor country: so harmfully experienced, so beautiful, old and modern, full of superstitions, nonsense, wisdom, thieves, charity, misfortune and heart... Suddenly it became the centre of catholic cult of the One. Everybody forgot about some misunderstandings between them personally and the institution of church. They jointed in pain and sorrow, decided to go abreast in the funeral procession, light the candles and murmur the words of Lord’s Prayer. Streets full of people, tears, caddish, sights, glow of colourful candles, pictures of the Pope – Our Pope. At 12, each day of the National Mourning life in Poland stopped for a minute. At 21:37 people gathered on the streets, lit candles, prayed, cried. This moment will ever stay in my memory – the moment when the lights in houses were switched off, bells in churches rang loudly and people stopped and tears flew on their faces. I don’t think I will experience such emotions ever in future.

sort of writing

a lot of people practise some kinds of writing.
the question remains the same - what for?
my friend supposed that the answer is the lack of sexual satisfaction.
some "fertile" poets or writers commit a sort of masturbation everyday to feel their fantasies in the real life to achieve some sexual pleasure. interesting...
shall I commit writing yet? or maybe sate somewhere else? intriguing...

disease

What kind of disease is able to kill you totally?
The question is provoked by thousands of people suffering all days and nights because their organisms are too exhausted to keep fighting. Sometimes it is the fault of the whole environment, sometimes the collapse of thoughts.
What could happen if we believed that it was the end and ... nothing else?
What could happen if, looking at the mirror, we didn't see our faces but some dead masks?
What could happen if we lost our dreams, memories and wishes?
I can admit that it can be the short-time absence from sort of reality or from the fertile life. However, the state can change into the fatal illness? Moreover, into bloody hell incurable infection or even the kind of plague?




short song about dying:

One by one, everybody's coming down,
without a hope or a touch of some,
we're coming down...
but the kind of smile
the grin of
the memory
such a fatal theory
that the love will cure
for sure,
flying away into the nothing...
however, happy we are
at last, coming down :)

what about the friend who has already gone?

such a small creature who crashed our days by his leaving... he opened the door to the other side and just left, looking at us sadly and hopelessly. with this horrible understanding that nothing could be done. it happened almost a month ago but hurts until today badly. I'm even afraid that it will ever. the incurable disease - cancer which is eating all of material things inside, leaving no hope for untouched soul. the fatal observation of the every single day taking your love away. the farewell. relief. pain again.