What a Wonderful World...

I walk down the street, passing a crowd of faceless people. A gray, shapeless mass, with its trivial problems and empty laughter ringing in its chest. A game of appearances, a vanity fair, a bottomless pit of stupidity.

In the headphones I've sealed myself off from this world, Kurt falls silent, swearing: "No, I don't have a gun..." No

, I'm not sick of everything at all...

The song ends, but every ending is the beginning of something new. I hear a soft click. Time to turn the page. I reach into my pocket and pull out the cassette. Side A. What about an alcoholic? What about an abnegator? What about an abderite? What about "and that's all of me"?

I turn it over and put it back in. The 21st century? The time of Discmans and MP3 players? Bullshit. Nothing can replace the sweet crackle of a broken Walkman.

The voices in my head fade, making room for the opening bars of the next song. I don't know what the author was high on to start perceiving the world this way. I didn't get that high even on meth.

"I see trees of green, red roses too..."

I look around and don't see them. There's no place for them in the concrete jungle. They died long ago under a thick layer of asphalt.

"I see them bloom for me and you..."

For me? I smile ironically. Even my own family can't look at me, so I doubt some unknown flower would dare open its petals for me. Unless it were some weed—an outcast like me.

"And I think to myself what a wonderful world..."

I laugh bitterly. Why did I even record this?

I'm already reaching for the button marked "F.FWD" when a hoarse voice tirelessly continues its narrative of its vision of the world.

"I see skies of blue and clouds of white..."

I raise my head. It's no use, man; the sky is covered in leaden clouds. It's about to rain. And once again, shattered dreams will flow down the streets along with the rain.

God, I think I'm going crazy...

"The bright blessed day, the dark sacred

night..." I snort. I see nothing sacred in the darkness of night. Violence, rape, murder, drug addicts, screams, shrieks, mocking laughter. This is "Wrocław by night." Holy people, if there are any here, go to bed before dark to avoid seeing these horrors. Out of sight, out of pure heart.

"And I think to myself what a wonderful world..."

There's probably no point in arguing with the author. He knows better...

"The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky..."

I looked up again. The last time I saw a rainbow was as a child. Factory smoke effectively prevents one from admiring the wonders of nature. These are the "charms" of living in a factory district.

"...Are also on the faces of people going by...""

My gaze drowning in the gray sky, I accidentally bumped into a young woman, knocking her to the sidewalk. The impact stunned me slightly. The girl leaped to her feet in a single bound, her face turning purple. Oh, here comes the explosion... Thankfully, I couldn't hear the words, but her rapidly fluttering jaw told me everything. I apologized incoherently and moved forward, continuing my journey to nowhere.

Was Louis referring to the colors of rage in that part?

"I see friends shaking hands saying 'how do you do'..."

I noticed two tracksuit guys standing in the gateway. They bumped fists in a simple greeting. I quickly turned my head and quickened my pace. My skin was too precious to mess with bald guys in tracksuits. I wouldn't stand a chance against those typical ABS—Absolutely No Necks.

"They're really saying 'I love you'..."

I risked a quick glance back. Somehow I didn't think so...

"I hear babies crying, I watch them grow..."

Some idiot snatched an old woman's purse and ran like an arrow, turning into one of the seedy alleys of this beautiful city. Yeah... kids grow...

"They'll learn much more than I'll ever know..."

That's a fact. Recently, some thirteen-year-old was caught breaking into a government archive or something. I can't do that...

"And I think to myself what a wonderful world..."

I turned off the tape. I'd had enough. This song had made me terribly depressed. I couldn't find beauty in this brutal world, tightly embraced by gray clouds. I trudged sadly to the bus stop. I lost a good twenty minutes before the bus graciously arrived. Fortunately, there weren't many people. I sat quietly. By the window.

And while watching the slowly moving image, I saw a strange streak of light. I looked up at the sky in surprise. It seemed that the clouds had parted a little, and a shy ray of sunlight managed to penetrate their fathomless depths.

My heart beat faster. I felt this was a sign. A sign especially for me. I smiled, certain that not all was lost.

Well, Mr. Armstrong. Yet there was still something beautiful left in this world. A spark of hope, dispelling even the darkest darkness of doubt.

My lips involuntarily whistled a melody that has always given me strength since then.

"Yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world..."