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The Fog of the Past

You know, sometimes it happens, you go on a journey, you are there for a couple of days. And already the past, your home, life circumstances, everything seems to be in a fog. It's as if you have always lived here, in the place where you have been for only a few days. Not to mention a week.

Today our day combined a morning swim in Greece, it was so natural and usual. I asked myself: "What does our dwelling in Poland look like?" and could not adequately answer this. Yet, on the same day, we returned home. And now I am writing this text with the feeling as if I never went anywhere. And the past memories are acutely fogged as if a dream.

Could this be one of the symptoms of living in the moment?


One day with children.

You know, some of the interesting and very important actions in my life had the "wrong" motivation. I went to disabled children, not for help, but to go to the camp. And then it dragged on. Well, there was something else...

But today, Dasha went to Warsaw for a few days. And in order to somehow cover up the resulting vacuum, I decided to do something with my children. And you know, there is something in it. I am sharing a short video of how our day went.

Maybe it will inspire someone to become a father.

Kayaking

Kayaking is a wonderful thing. And the more wonderful it becomes, the quieter you go. Every paddle stroke on the water disrupts the beauty of silence and brings us closer to the end of kayaking. Similarly in life, we paddle to approach the end, rather than to live. On the other hand, when stuck in a dead-end, one needs to paddle hard to get out and move forward.

My dream: early morning kayaking in dense fog. Complete silence.

Birds Under the Mushroom

I lean closer to the trees,
Feeling their warmth more and more,
Through the birdsong,
it shines, Illuminating my core.

We all need to live here a bit longer,
To inhale the fragrance of life,
That nature and people give,
Gifted just for the sake of it.

Everything will end, dear,
In a month, years, or this era,
Nature will undergo changes,
And there will be a different human.

And you know, we might fear,
That ChatGPT or a fool,
Will turn back the fateful clock,
Setting it loose upon the world.

We are birds, accustomed to fly,
Away from terror, war, and the mushroom,
And in our world with you,
The nest hangs in the wing's embrace.

Whether we fly or sit,
It doesn't matter,
Look...
The mushroom approaches...
Tightly grip my hand,
And that moment will be cherished!

Life in the Forest

A whole life unfolds in the forest,
Takes just a few hours,
I feel with all my soul,
I'm not alone here, not just by myself.

With myself,
Meeting with God,
The forest gives me strength,
Every single time.

Yet life pulls me back again,
Into the whirlwind of half-dead,
Endless phases...

Cologne

At first, all public transport stopped for a day. Then writing, bathroom breaks, sniveling, running noses. Glance at my phone, not stressing. We pick up the kids, pack our stuff. Occasionally, I check the time. We leave. Navigate the route, jaw clenches, unease in the chest. Full throttle. Stinky sweat drips down my back, soaking my favorite hoodie. My ears buzz from fatigue, my temples from global injustice. Why did I think I had enough time? It's a blur now. There's a large bridge before the station to cross to our platform. My fatigue shifts to heavy breathing; I sense we made it in time. The aromatic aftermath of the rush stays with me. I conscientiously go to buy tickets from the machine. Five minutes later, I despise the German language, ticket machines, and myself. I figured it out, but we missed the train. Saved 8 euros though. Rush again, the kids are restless, not sensing the urgency. Lyuba gets offended, insists she's Lyuba, not restless. Ahh, another ticket machine. But this one seems more sophisticated. Ahhh, I can't get it right, ahh! Laid the laptop on the ground, chose tickets. Why did they get pricier? There's a discount. 45 euros, pay, pdf. We rush to the platform. The screen displays our train. And there it is. We sprint inside. Asked a passenger if this was our train, he nodded in agreement. Offered to double-check, asked a German if this goes to Cologne. He confirmed. I felt heroic. Settled in, chose seats, exhaled. Wondered why our train departs in a minute when ours is in 10? Silence. Maybe this isn't ours. I sit, doors close. We move. AAAAAHHHHH. It isn't. Ahhhh!!!! What to do? Ahhh? How could this happen? Options, checks, Google. The cost of the mistake + 55 euros to get off at the next stop, on the train we're already on. Anxiety mounts. Maybe they won't notice? Maybe they will? If they do, it'll be a disaster. Bought the ticket for the train we're currently on. Controller checks in 5 minutes. Sweaty relief and satisfaction from the decision. Scanned the QR, like everything was supposed to be. Everyone to the bathroom in turns. The girls are growing, it's harder to hold them over the toilet. The flush is as powerful as a black hole in space. Waited too early to disembark. Lyuba tripped multiple times before the door while the train waited for permission to cover the last kilometer. The train wedged itself against the station. The Gothic cathedral crowded, it seems easier for people from the station to pass through the cathedral's doors. People with luggage obscure the skies. Cars pollute the air. How to see one of Germany's oldest cities through this? Augmented reality is impossible here. Perhaps it's needed only in boring towns? No time for that now. Then we walked, walked, ate, bathroom, wiped the floor, yelled at the kids, cleaned up, left the leftovers, walked, listened to the crowd of environmental protestors, walked, ate, charged the phone, crowds, crowds, crowds, the LEGO store, put boxes in their place, herded the kids to the exit, escaped, walked on, terrible service at a famous café, decisions, Google, dreamed of home with forbidden food and complete relaxation. The museum is close, really cool, but not compatible with sweaty hoodie and muddy socks. Good thing there are many places to sit. Life becomes interesting again. Two things were recommended in Cologne: Visit the Cathedral and try the beer. I don't drink beer, and it's unclear if they make non-alcoholic. Ate, drank, bathroom, dressed, left, throttle, had enough time, boarded, still 30 minutes left. Good thing we got the LEGO giveaway, no background noise. The right train came, we moved to the second floor for a better view, no seats, sat without windows, jiggled around, mustered strength, kept searching for window seats. Found some. Placed kids further away. Relaxation ensued. Outside, it's beautiful, silence around, Arabic talk and Slavic request to bring kids closer. We decline, lazily enjoy. Soon we transfer from one train to another. All's well, timely, and close. Rush, exit to platform via elevator with a queue. The first group went without us. We'll make it. The second group went with us. Barely squeezed in. Positioned so the kids won't get crushed. In an hour, Borussia Dortmund's match. Wish you'd go faster. Everyone exited at the next stop. Exited, yay, only one km left to home. Have to go through the store, we fly out tomorrow. Store, all was good until the scream, "Daddy - need to pee". This store didn't have a bathroom, suggested another. The other said yes, but we'd have to wait. We wait, learn patience. Restrooms after numerous flights of stairs. A good bathroom. Made it. Barely got out. Got out. Then a bottle of non-alcoholic exclusive Cologne beer whizzed by me. Left many questions and thoughts. Craved relaxation, to shed the day's tension. But the beer bottle didn't assist, so I decided to convert my tension energy into this text I'm writing. Finished writing. The kids are asleep! Time to read. Realizing deeply, I love my Dasha very much. Kiss.