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Author Archives: freelander
The theory of two enemies (as seen by a Polish witness).
“One of the school-board’s favourite questions that were randomly put to us at the classes during the Soviet times was: ‘what is the purpose of the theory of two enemies?’ And depending on the answer we provided, our parents could be arrested … Continue reading
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Do widzenia, Warsaw. (Do widzenia, Poland.)
. A farewell to Warsaw (and somehow to Poland as well). Goodby Warsaw, I’m leaving you today. Goodby, goodby, goodby. Goodby all you people. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind. Goodby. (“Adapted” from Pink Floyd) … Continue reading
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Podlasie
Podlasie is a stroll in the rain along the forestry park, and a sweet — oh! how sweet first kiss under the umbrella: her strangely bland lips, intensely crimson, invariably juicy, provokingly fleshy. She in an absurd sanguine-red dress, all … Continue reading
The Ukrainian bus adventure
. The Ukrainian bus was a heap of scrap, as old and filthy as I hadn’t seen the like since the impoverished Spain of my early childhood, and it had no heating at all. It took us eight hours to … Continue reading
Stories of the past
. During my last stay in Warsaw, Ela, my 77 y.o. lovely host, told me a number of fascinating stories about the WWII, the German occupation and the ulterior (and much worse) soviet domination. Here’s a little example: After the … Continue reading
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Slavic soul
At times, there is nothing like three friends chatting over a few beers… My companions were fascinating, though they could hardly be more dissimilar: Roman, tall and corpulent, was a bachelor in his full forties, an intelectual, well cultured, the … Continue reading
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The map of sorrow
. It’s a chill and sunny November morning of a slavic capital. His gloved hands seeking for shelter in the pockets of the worn-out coat, the man wanders along the wide avenues of magnificent Stalinist architecture, his head hanging down, … Continue reading
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The change
The mashrutka was, as usual, crammed with people. No way to get to the driver and pay. ‘What’s the fare?’, I asked to my young, pretty and kind travel mate for the occasion. ‘One seventy five’, she said. I handed … Continue reading
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