Tea at Aunt Zofia's

What is the current significance of the philosophy of dialogue? Tea at Aunt Zofia's.

Many of us don't realize that it's not us who speak the words, but the words who speak about us. Few realize that every word is art, and every DIALOGUE is philosophy! After all, no one would deny that art can be overlooked or downplayed, and philosophy ridiculed. However, every mechanical wave that emerges from within our larynx is a work of art from Mother Nature, and where these waves interfere with the corresponding electromagnetic waves in the human brain, a unique, unique philosophy is created. More or less relevant to society as a whole (we'll address this issue later), but certainly noticed in some way by the individual to whom it is addressed (provided that individual—the subject—is not deaf). So what do these "words" really mean, and what is "dialogue"? According to the "PWN Dictionary of the Polish Language," dialogue means: "a conversation, especially between two people," and it is also "a form of literary expression (applied to an entire work or a fragment thereof) in the form of a conversation between two or more people; a literary or philosophical work written in the form of a conversation." So now that we know what to aim for, I suggest you, dear Reader, join me in working your way through the text below.

If I'm interpreting the dictionary correctly, after a quick review of the letters below, I can confirm that I've created a story with significant elements of dialogue! We'll learn, first and foremost, the contemporary meaning of the philosophy of dialogue.

Oh, pardon me, I didn't introduce myself. They call me Arche. No need, don't introduce yourself; I know what to call you, Reader (though it hasn't occurred to you)! Yes, you can! You're already part of this treatise, and as Arche, I call you Reader! Any attempt at rebellion or sabotage of my whim is doomed to failure from the start. I, here, define the ontological significance of each of us. Enough, no "buts"! I'm ending my monologue, please sharpen your underlining pencil, assume a comfortable position, and invite you to read. A pen is out! Please adapt, enough of these attempts to dress me in form! We have more important matters to understand than whether a pen is more practical than a pencil! If that were the case, architects, painters, prison anthropologists, etc., would use pens, not pencils! Enough of these questions and my answers; this is how it's supposed to be, and the trace left by a pencil can be erased, unlike words released into the ether. But enough, yes, I'm already beginning the "proper work." Filip, with his tangle of thoughts and questions, is already on his way to Aunt Zofia's house. We have to get there before him; after all, I still have to create this house in your imagination!

Uh-huh... here we are. Look around. You see that cottage and that enormous greenhouse in the garden. It's Aunt Zofia and Uncle Immanuel's estate. It's pretty, isn't it? You have to admit, the woman has a sense of taste, elegance, and—in a word—aesthetics. After all, she was the one in charge of the engineering and architectural staff when this little wonder of the world was being built. My uncle, as usual when his opinion is needed, went for a walk with the dog. You already know what this estate looks like, okay. ( Consternation ) Looking at you like this, I doubt you see it. All right, I'll describe it. Again, from the beginning. Do you see that cottage, with its large white windows, walls the color of oak bark, and red, tiled roof, and that enormous greenhouse in the garden, where various vegetables and those young fruit trees grow behind it? You're right, I could be wrong. We're looking into the setting sun. Nothing can be certain from this perspective, not even the size, not to mention the colors! If you disagree with me, see the house you imagine. I don't care, and neither does Aunt Zofia, provided you don't offend her taste; it's not a dump! You're my guest in your imagination. Your facial expression has changed; did I say something wrong? Well, never mind. In any case, make yourself at home, allow yourself to be impressed! Without limits, in my world, you are the Creator of reality, I just clean and maintain the transcendental order, with the course of events at the forefront. Is that clear? (Space for your response)

->.................

I'm glad you made your choice, so read the text above again until you understand and assimilate it better. Once you've done that, I'll give you a moment to build Aunt Zofia's house (because my uncle only shows up for breakfast and when he needs to help his wife).

( wait a moment )

Hurry! He's coming. Yes, that young man, see? Walking along that path from the forest (yes, that's the forest) is Filip. As usual, when he has a problem and a question, where does he go along that path? Right, to that house currently set against the setting sun (sorry, I'm here for the day and night routine, please don't forget!).

Filip went to the door (unless you enter your house through the window, but your aunt won't like that. So it's better to take it there). He knocked. No one answered. He turned the knob, and the door swung open with a soft creak.

"Hello! Is anyone home?" he asked the four walls in the hallway. No one answered.

He took off his shoes and went into the living room. He looked around. Everything was in its place. Rather, "nothing" had changed since his last visit. On the mantelpiece, beneath a portrait of Aunt Zofia sitting in a rocking chair, knitting, and a portrait of Uncle Immanuel, dressed in a stylish tailcoat and wearing a monocle, leaning against the edge of an antique table, a fluffy, ginger-and-white cat slept, as usual. She opened one green eye for just a moment to look at the guest.

"Hello Scheherazade! Nice to see you again, sleepyhead," the boy greeted the cat. She merely stretched, yawned, then curled up and went back to sleep. The boy approached the aquarium, where a single black angelfish was swimming.

"Hello Heraclitus. I see they've replaced your plants. How's it swimming these days?" He tapped on the aquarium's glass and looked around the room. A monkey dressed as a harlequin peeked out from a small box suspended from the ceiling. Its mouth opened wide as if to say "hello."

"How are you, Descartes!" Filip waved to the monkey. It nimbly ran down the ladder and jumped onto the boy's shoulder, then extended its paw.

"Wait, I think I have a peanut for you." The boy dug a nut out of his pocket and gave it to the monkey. Delighted, it jumped down and ran to the wide-open patio doors. Like a madwoman, it began jumping and screaming, waving its gift. A colorful parrot flew into the living room, shouting "peanut, peanut," circled the room, and landed on Filip's arm.

"Hello, Filip, give me a peanut!" it whistled.

"Hello! You're arguing with Descartes, as usual, John Locke?! Could you two finally admit you were right and share a peanut? I'd like to point out that he has two nuts inside. That applies to you too, Rene!" The boy tried to catch the monkey in his sight, but it vanished like a stone in water. "Where did it go?

" "Here it is!" Aunt Zofia entered through the terrace door, holding the monkey by the hand. She was wearing an apron decorated with flowers and large, angular, red glasses. She was smiling broadly. "Hello Filip, what's so upsetting you? Would you like some tea?" she asked in her always friendly and pleasant voice.

"I'd love to.

" "Peanut," the parrot interrupted. Aunt Zofia laughed, and Filip took the last nut from his pocket and gave it to the parrot. He was not at all happy.

"Don't spoil them so much, or they'll rob you of everything in the end. Whatever happens, they both agree that peanuts are delicious.

" "That can't be denied." – Filip concluded with a slightly sour expression.

A moment later, his aunt brought a porcelain teapot of jasmine tea and a bowl of peanuts from the kitchen. Filip automatically reached for the peanuts, not taking his eyes off the black spot on the wall.

“Auntie, you have a spider here, don’t you?”

"And yes, yes, he's our new housemate. Zenon, come say hello to Filip.

" "No, auntie, maybe not, it'll be fine.

" "Filip, you're not afraid of spiders, are you?

" "Hi, Zenon!" the boy said quickly. "I've already said hello." He smiled sheepishly. "Where's Uncle?" he tried to change the subject.

"Uncle, yes, he went for a walk with the dog this morning, as usual. He came back less than half an hour later, bringing something with him. He quickly ran upstairs, didn't even leave his top hat on the hanger! And like a red-hot antiquarian, he sits in his study all day, doing something with his find. And what problems are bringing you here again?

" "Well, I have a rather unusual question...

" "I'm listening," the aunt, interested, looked at Filip, then poured the tea into the china cups. A pleasant aroma wafted through the room.

"This morning…

…

… eh, echo…

…

(Can you tell me why Filip looked at me so expressively? I don't know either… oh, actually, already!)

***

Filip, like every Sunday morning, went for a walk in the forest. Since boletus season had begun, he took a basket with him. His mother asked him to gather these delicious mushrooms.

He walked along the path, until he spotted a huge boletus. Satisfied, he wanted to pick it, but realized he didn't have his penknife with him. He must have lost it along the way. He felt bad about leaving the mushroom and going in search of the knife, which was already old and even a little rusty at the latch. And he didn't want to pull up the mycelium, because he remembered very well how long ago, when he was a little boy, his aunt had warned him not to do so with a wagging finger. Resigned, he was about to head home when he caught the unpleasant stench of tobacco mixed with alcohol. A moment later, he heard a hoarse, repulsive voice behind him.

"Is that what you're looking for?" The frightened boy spun on his heel. He looked at the strange man leaning against the nearest tree. He had a long snout, from which protruded enormous fangs. He was biting a cigarette with them. A green, black-checked cap was pulled down over his eyes, and he was wearing a torn shirt. With one hand, he was tossing a pocketknife, spinning it in the air. "I think it's yours.

" "Yes, it's my pocketknife. Thank you for finding it." He tried to take it from the strange stranger, but the man hid it behind him and, staring straight into the boy's frightened eyes, said,

"Where's 'please'? Won't you even ask after old Wolf? How could I have guessed you were so arrogant? You're clearly the son of Little Red Riding Hood.

" "Pardon, what's 'please'? What Little Red Riding Hood?" I think you've got your fairy tales mixed up?

"Well, yes, I was recently playing part-time in 'The Wolf and the Hare' when I heard that Little Red Riding Hood had had enough of going to Grandma's. She'd run off with some guy who supposedly played guitar and had long hair. I saw him once. Perpetual pupils like pinheads, pale as chalk. I wonder if he'd actually seen her?

" "Excuse me, how could you 'perpetual' see him if you only admitted you saw him once?" Filip remarked. Let's not mention that he was completely speechless at first.

"Don't be picky!" A tear glistened in the wolf's eyes. "I met him in the pub when I went to gargle after work, as I do every evening. The next day"—he reached into his pocket—"I was going to propose to her"—he pulled out a gold ring with a diamond—"and here she comes. Nose ring, combat boots, a short dress, and a leather jacket." All powdered white, only her eyes were black, as if someone had done something to them. She looked like a Voodoo doll. Her hair was pure straw! And dyed black! HOW I DON'T LIKE BRUNETTES! – The wolf exploded in despair. He fell to his knees and twisted the ring with trembling paws. – I saved up money for years to buy her this. I fell in love at first sight. She was so beautiful!

– Sorry to interrupt, sir, I'm glad, I mean, I'm really sorry that you're unfortunately no longer in 'Little Red Riding Hood,' but could you give me back my pocketknife?

– I'M SUFFERING HERE, BOY! CAN'T YOU SEE IT? – The cigarette slipped from his tooth. – Well, who's going to worry about the poor little wolf there? – he blew his nose into his shirtsleeve – I was always the bad guy, I had to play the villain, but really, it was because of her that I started swearing and smoking! Then, in the pub, Zając, with whom I'd been acting out for the past few years, offered me a cigarette, and that's how it stayed. He also found me a job at his cartoon. It was lucky, because now we probably wouldn't be talking. He looked at his penknife. He sniffed one last time. He stood up, dusted off his knees, and looked at the boy, his eyes red like a little child's. "I thought you were her son." I hoped he'd left her when he found out she was pregnant, and like the "prodigal son," she'd returned to her mother. I really hoped I'd see her again, that she'd changed!

"And where were you looking for her?" The whole situation seemed like a soap opera to Filip.

"I was waiting in the pub all this time, when I wasn't on stage, of course. I thought she'd show up... But I've been hanging out there too much lately. I haven't shown up for work, I got fired." Yesterday I drank away my last paycheck, and since I was holed up at Hare's, I couldn't stay overnight with him after what happened. I decided to end my life, right here in the forest. Hang myself from a tree, right where I always jumped out at her.

"Wolf," the boy dared to gesture and put his hand on his shoulder, repeating to himself, "he doesn't exist, it's just a fairy tale!" "Don't do that! Millions of children in the world love you! You're the greatest wolf of all fairy tales!

" "Because, in fact, I've played in all of them...

" "Exactly! Look how much everyone needs you!

" "There you go. Now all the kids watch Cartoon Network. And there's no place for a wolf there! Yes, boy, old fairy tales are dying, and even Disney can't save them!

" "You're exaggerating, surely someone will still tell them!

" "'Someone,' well said! We used to be a kind of dialogue! One of a kind! We spoke for good and evil, for all people! What philosophy was behind us! And what is the current meaning of the philosophy of dialogue? You know? Because I don't know! Everything is falling apart! Where is it heading?" Filip paused for a moment. He took a deep breath (he almost vomited from the wolf's odor) and said: ...