Saturday, 2 August 2014


Dziś tłumaczę wiersze, piję kawę, jestem zadowolona. Lubię soboty. Uwielbiam historie, uwielbiam opowiadania też.

Dreaming high, dreaming low. Or maybe I should say dreaming big, dreaming small. As I mentioned in a previous post, I have spent great parts of this summer with my nose in a book. I have also been living stories. Never before have I seen so many stories around me, and felt such an urgent need to re-tell these stories on paper. (It might have something to do with the fact that I have spent lots of time on trains. There is no better place for people watching than a train).

Like yesterday, for instance, there was a couple making out on the platform. I could not take my eyes from them, it was so joyful. It looked like a scene from a film, they both were so beautiful and she just oozed of sex appeal. However, it was their laughter, their joy, that caught my attention. They were so carefree. The moment felt so pure somehow.

Back to stories. I have been reading a book about stories - how each life is a story, whose plot is still unfinished, whose ending still needs to be written. I like the thought of life being a story, that one can step out, look at it, analyse it, interpret it, misunderstand it and change it. It makes the variety of choices endless, it means that there is always room for adventure.

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