I dreamt that I was driving a large black car out of a snowy car park, at night, somewhere by the sea. It was dark and the road was slippery; I struggled to back out from between the other cars without damaging them. The exit from the car park was winding and narrow; it led along a corridor between high mounds of snow. I drove nonchalantly, not seeing the road clearly, putting my foot down on the bends and getting into tiny skids. On one particularly tight bend the side of the car hit the snow and punctured it, the car flipped onto its roof and started sliding downhill. At first I was just grew worried that it would now be difficult to find someone to help me out of the pit, but soon after I realised that the car wouldn't stop sliding and I was in much more serious trouble. I was descending faster and faster, deeper and deeper. There was nothing I could do, so I sat there in the chair, upside down, and listened. At first all I heard was the sound of the roof rubbing against the snow, then some branches and mud. In the end, the car fell into some big body of water and began to submerge. It was only then that I started to panic. I thought, I finally understood something I had never been able to understand: that it was impossible to get out of the car underwater. It dawned on me that it was over. I woke up with the sound of water splashing around in my ears.
It was an intense week, driving across Poland on the diagonal: Warsaw-Poznań-Szczecin. I would write in hotels in the mornings, which, I must say, I like. Work usually goes quite quickly and smoothly for me in these conditions. It is as if the constant change of surroundings is occupying that superficial part of attention that should be occupied so that deeper attention could be achieved more easily. As long as you can find a relatively quiet place, but Apple Airpods Pro with their active noise cancelling are invaluable. Deep silence on cue.
Besides writing in hotels, nice events happened. The première of Symphony No. 1 at the Malta Festival and “Fryderyk” for the audiovisual release of ahat-ili. I would like to thank everyone involved in both of these projects at their various stages. Which is quite a large group of people.
In addition, in Poznań, talks about a big thing gaining momentum and shape.
Alojs is already in the trenches. He does his best to survive and recalls Agnes. Chaos, noise and mud all around.
(transl. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)