Showing posts from 2010

... The Second Day

Incidents on the second day of being a child again. *** It's true that grownups like nice weather too, but they only think and ponder over it while we, it seems, drink it in. Grownups too, like a bright morning, but for us, it is frozen wine - it's as if we were made drunk by it. When I was a grownup and I saw snow, I already anticipated the slush. I felt the damp overshoes and wondered whether there would be enough coal for the winter. And joy, it was there too, but sprinkled somehow with ashes, dusty and grey. But now, there are thousands of sparks inside me. It's as if someone sprinkled diamond dust in my soul and along the ground. *** It's a stern punishment - the corner. I'm weak; sitting in the seat bothered me; I leanded back; I couldn't sit straight. Now I have to stand. *** It's a pity that the wonderful game was spoiled so. Wonderful?! How meager is man's language. But then, what can you say? *** How many windows are we allo

Notes from "When I am Little Again" - The first day

Gems that I want to remember forever. This is a book where the narrator becomes little and recalls when he was big. Memories of forgotten childhood feelings awaken within. *** And everyone is again staring at me. And the teacher is looking too. Marylski nudges me in the back" "What happened?" I don't answer and he again asks: "What did the principal say to you?" I'm angry. Why is he bothering me? What business is it of his? "Marylski, no talking, please." the teacher comes to my rescue. Evidently, she wanted to leave me in peace too. She sees that I'm troubled and so, for a whole hour, she doesn't call on me to recite. And so, I'm sitting and thinking. I have lots to think about. I'm not listening; I don't know what they are talking about. .. I'm worse than deaf. Because I don't hear and I don't see either. I don't even pretend that I know. The teacher could see at once that I'm not paying attention