"
Arkadiusz Through the Eyes of an Omniscient (of course!) and, of course, utterly objective Narrator."
A while ago, a funny thing happened to me. I came across some notes—quite a good literary attempt, I must admit—and imagine my surprise when I realized they described a single day in my life! Under their influence, I began to write down the story of my existence—but more on that later! Now I'll read to you what I found:
Julia was nervously searching for her cigarettes. She was terribly nervous, dismantled, scattered, utterly feverish, and absolutely exasperated. She was supposed to be
at school, but she couldn't go without first smoking at least one cigarette, at least one tiny one. Terribly irritated, she stepped into the gate to calm her terribly frayed nerves in peace...
The weather was, oh, it was. Warm, April-like, quite pleasant, though not always and not for everyone. There was a breeze. Yes, oh, yes, there was a breeze, there was a breeze. Gentle, refreshing, spring-like, except when it wasn't gentle, refreshing, and spring-like. The pressure was, oh, there was, but it could have been a little, a tiny bit higher. Or lower. The road conditions weren't bad, oh, not bad. They were conducive to fast and dangerous driving, oh, they were. It was one of those days when everyone wakes up and looks out the window and their heart rejoices. Unless they're not...
In a certain, unspecified yard, a few pigeons were fluttering merrily,
up and down, with no apparent purpose. Just for fun. Their dovishness was plain to see. It practically emanated from them, sending a message to everyone: "I'm a pigeon, and I'm proud of it!" And in their dovelike nature, these were true
and truly absolute pigeons. The birds constantly shifted positions relative to each other, tracing incredibly fanciful paths in their flight—it was surprising that chance alone governed this. It was an incredible spectacle. A miracle of nature. A great mystery of nature.
Julia watched these birdlike antics for a long moment, but after a while, she felt weary, so she smiled maliciously and picked up a medium-sized gray pebble.
Swiiiiissssssstttttt.
Bang! Bang!
Boom! Boom!
One of the unidentified pigeons was hit by a stone.
As a result of its injuries and the shock, the bird, in midair, could not continue flying, so, obedient to the merciless laws of gravity, it fell
to the ground. Despite its exemplary life and sincere desire to prolong its avian existence, the pigeon died.
Nothing is known about its soul, if it possessed one.
The girl walked casually, almost like a dancer, toward the dead bird. A pigeon that was—it must be said—impaired in a rather significant way. She leaned closer,
her beautiful brown eyes expressing extraordinary astonishment that she, a frail creature, could have killed any form of life. This indirect murder (the real killer was a pebble) filled her with pride. It gave her a sense of strength and power over other creatures. She straightened and, holding her long, white "Łowicz" dress with her small hands, danced the typical dance performed when a pigeon has been killed.
After a while, the ecstasy and sense of triumph began to fade, giving way to indescribable sadness. Julia only understood the horror of her deed when she associated her dance with the carefree frolics of the pigeons. She wept bitterly for the fate of the bird
and its loved ones. She thought about them and even prayed for them. But it didn't last long, because after a moment, Julia felt a terrible loathing for the pigeon. She hated it for making her cry, for feeling sorry for it, for feeling ashamed
and tormented by remorse. In a fit of anger, she spat brutally at it, wanting to show it her contempt and disdain.
Angry at the dead bird, furious with herself, and offended by the entire world, Julia left the yard and melted into the crowd of constantly rushing people...
"Where's the sense? Where's the logic? How can anything make sense if nothing makes sense? Ah! Ah! Show me something I can believe in, something I can trust! Show me that the world is a wonderful place to live, that some wise force governs it, and that the overwhelming majority of people are not stupid materialists, devoid of all spirituality!" Arkadiusz would probably have continued walking, lost in such thoughts, but suddenly something caught his eagle-eyed, sensitive, and soulful gaze.
"Oh! What a beautiful girl is approaching? Oh, how lovely! A wonder! A wonder! One
of the few who isn't just like the others and doesn't wear pink blouses down to their navels!
What eyes! How magnificent! They surely betray an extraordinary intelligence and an unconventional, noble personality! And what an outfit! As if from another era, completely unlike the clothing of modern girls! Oh, oh! I would fall in love with her! What am I saying!? I love her already! If only she would take an interest in me! She stopped for a moment and asked something,
for directions, for example... Ah... ah... Will my dream of being in a relationship with such a wonderful person ever come true? An extraordinary woman, with whom I could defy this utterly corrupt civilization?"
Unfortunately, Julia did not stop in front of him, nor did she even notice him, but passed him by indifferently and went on, far, far, into the unknown, into the blue distance, towards her destiny.
Arkadiusz stood for a moment, staring at the fading silhouette, sighing for it, dreaming of a life together, and cursing the world for containing so few such magnificent beings who would understand him, love him, and agree on almost everything. Crowds of barbarians and imbeciles jostled him every now and then, but he was completely oblivious. Oblivious to everything, he followed the stranger with a longing gaze, all the way to the horizon.
The sight was truly depressing, and in his despondency, incredibly poignant.
After a while, Arek resumed his walk and, shaking his head sadly, slowly entered a courtyard, searching for interesting spots to photograph.
Roughly in the center of the square, a pigeon lay. Arkadiusz probably wouldn't have been surprised—after all, birds often take a short nap in the afternoon—but this time, the young man's face gave the impression of utter astonishment, utter surprise. For the pigeon was dead! But he wasn't simply dead! He was dead by murder! The bird's appearance and the amount of blood on the ground clearly indicated murder. This made the situation worse. Arek could have accepted the pigeon's natural death, resulting from its old age, because such a death was merely the final stage of life, an inextricable part of it, an inseparable element. But the bird, the little bird, the tiny avian, was killed! Who could understand such a senseless crime? Is there any rational explanation for this act? Coincidence? Fate? God's will? But... why a pigeon? Ah... why him? Why not a disgusting fly or a foul-smelling skunk, but an innocent dove? A symbol of peace! Exquisite! A symbol of peace murdered! Ah... ah! Has the world ever seen such a tragedy before? Does anyone know of this horror? Is even a single person aware of this animal's senseless death? Oh… who among these shallow, self-absorbed people could see all the evil present on this wretched planet? I ask: who? Ah… ah… probably no one. No one! It's terrible, my friend! Fortunately, I see your suffering, your loneliness in all its glory! No one knows about you, no one remembers you, no one is capable of understanding the enormity of the pain you have endured! Just as no one can fathom the state I am in! Do you understand? We are alike, my little dove! We are both lonely, insignificant, tiny, insignificant,
and utterly incomprehensible to this world, horribly macabre in its abomination! To this planet, horribly horrific in its ugliness! To a civilization, horribly horrific in its monstrosity, and to a humanity, horribly empty in its shallowness!
So, my little bird, allow me to immortalize you on photographic film until the end of time, for posterity, for future generations, to record your existence forever! This is the least I can do for you...
Yes, okay, a little to the left... Oh! Sorry, I forgot you can't...
So great, so wonderful!
Forgive me, my little dove, but I have to go now, you understand, responsibilities, a private, selfish life, I hope you don't blame me, after all, if I could, I would stay longer, but you know how it is, so, it was nice, but all good things come to an end, so unfortunately, I have to leave you, but thank you for meeting me, you've inspired me to think about something, because, you know... it seems to me that you're an allegory, a metaphor, or even perhaps a symbol... Yes, yes, I'm leaving now, but I promise I won't forget you, never, ever, I'm not one to forget so easily, I'm not like others, I will remember you, I will remember you until the last moment of my existence, because your story is similar to mine, because, in a way, I too am dead... drained of joy, devoid of deeper feelings... Besides, your fate has irreversibly intersected with mine. Now nothing will be the same, as before, similar to anything that happened
in the past. After all, how can anything be comparable to itself from the past if it can't be compared? Everything flows! Constant movement and constant change! One way or another, you affected me, and I affected you, who knows, perhaps also, in some strange, unknown, untamed, magical, metaphysical way... Farewell, my friend! I thank you a hundred times for coming into my life! Who knows what this will mean for my lonely existence? Who knows... Farewell! May the earth be light on you,
and may your children never suffer poverty or hunger!
And he departed, leaving the dove unchanged in its position relative to the four corners of the compass, the sidewalk and the sky, and life and death.
"Hmm...interesting thing about that bird, I won't say, I won't say. I wonder if the photo will come out? Oh yes! Will it come out? Eternal fear! Constant worry! Did I set everything up correctly?" Did I frame it correctly? Did I buy enough bread? Or maybe I have too much bread and it will spoil? And will it rain? Will I get beaten up today? Will some foreigner accost me and I won't be able to answer him? Constant fear. Will I make it in time? Will I have enough time to handle all my responsibilities and do all the things I want? Will such a time come?
In my life, so I can stop looking at the clock and wondering what I'll do tomorrow? What to decide? What decision to make? Where to go and what to do? We have too little time! Oh... how little! How little! Oh... how terrible! And not a moment of peace! Fear, worry. Even the simplest, most mundane things poison life, forcing me to reflect, to think about them. An untied shoelace, a torn button, stained pants, oh... how terrifying! Such small things, yet how they can wedge themselves
into the human mind, making it impossible to think about anything else, about any positive aspects of reality. Even if he's happy and content, somewhere deep
in the recesses of his consciousness lurks a terrifying thought, a terrible fear, or a terrible worry, only to surface at the most inopportune moment,
to shatter all the joy of the moment he was experiencing...
Arek stopped as an elderly man ran past him, holding a large, yellow, probably empty shopping bag. It wouldn't have been surprising, except that he knew this man. He saw him every day on his way to school. Every day! He had his way, and the other man had his! Day after day, the fates of these two people intersected, only to take completely different paths. During these fleeting moments, Arkadiusz felt as if, for the brief moment he saw this man, they were mocking each other at the inexorable fate and ridiculing him. They introduce an element of order and repetition into their lives, harboring the false hope that Earth isn't some giant balloon full of chaotically moving gas molecules. He smiled. He'd met him again! Ha! Ha! There was something magical about it! Two strangers who passed each other on the street every day! Something wonderful! Beautiful because it was logical! Although illogical, it was nonetheless logical in its, no matter how you look at it, improbability! He also wondered why this man was running around with that ridiculous, yellow, and clearly empty shopping bag. But, as always, he couldn't find an answer to this question. It was probably one of those many unanswerable mysteries of the universe...
Arkadiusz swallowed. He wet his lips, moved away, and returned to his earlier thoughts:
"Ah...ah...what if I don't achieve happiness? Ah...ah...what if I don't meet the love of my life?" Or worse, I might meet someone and not like them, fail to attract them, or even hurt them, distort their personality, or ruin their beauty with my nasty personality? I might also prove immature for such a relationship, or even stutter in their presence! Oh… oh… what a nightmare that would be!
He stopped for a moment, exhausted by his thoughts, frightened by his vision, and also because he needed to tie his shoelace.
As he stood up and was about to continue his walk, someone tapped him on the shoulder
and shouted loudly,
"Arek?! Is that you?! What a joke! It's been ages! How are you? How's it going?"
Arkadiusz frantically tried to remember where he knew this man from. Because he had to know him, that was for sure. Probably from school. Slowly, slowly, his mind began to associate a face with a name. After a moment, he knew. His name was Andrzej. Just like
before, he had a rather powerful, if not monstrous, build. Of course, he wasn't as spiritual and intelligent as Arek, but he was basically bearable.
"Hi Andrzej... I'm so glad to see you...
" "Great to meet you! I'm just going to meet some friends, you know, a few people, literally. Maybe you could drop by?
" "That's fantastic..." No, you know… I'd love to go… but well… right now it's so mediocre…
"Dude, don't talk! You can't say no! You're going! It's going to be a great party, you'll see for yourself," said Andrzej, and began leading poor Arek to a nearby pub, where terrible, shallow, stupid, and awful people were constantly lurking in wait for him. They headed in the direction
Arkadiusz had come from.
They'd been walking for about five minutes, mostly in silence, when suddenly Andrzej stopped and nodded at a heart-shaped balloon that had just flown out of the child's hands
and was heading skyward.
"Look at that balloon, man!
" "So what?
" "I don't know, it looks awesome, doesn't it? It's just… beautiful!
" "It's just a regular balloon!" Arek couldn't understand his friend's delight at all. "It's a normal thing! What an idiot! Getting so excited about the most normal balloon in the world!
But he probably doesn't know anything about pigeons!" Ha, I bet he knows nothing of his sad fate, of his tragic isolation! He probably doesn't even realize that something like this happened, that something like this could happen! After all, he's a narrow-minded half-moron who will never learn about the dramatic history of a pigeon-like creature, but instead delights in an ordinary, common, everyday balloon! A child's toy! Hold me! What a world, what people! Where is the justice! Because of people like him, our planet is going mad! Listening to such things, it's soaked in idiocy, later giving birth to even more stupid people! Hmm... the only way to restore balance to the world is to combat idiocy with wisdom and intelligence! Counter the balloon with the pigeon! Yes, counter it! I'll defeat the balloon with the pigeon! With the pigeon in the balloon's face!
"The pigeon!" he suddenly shouted in Andrzej's ear. "Do you know about the pigeon?" – he asked in a whisper. Are you aware of the pigeon? Ha! I'm asking!
Andrzej was speechless. So he didn't notice that the girl whose balloon had burst into tears. Fortunately, a nice lady, clearly advertising something, saw what was happening and gave her a second, identical balloon. The child immediately brightened up.
"What's with the pigeon? Where's the balloon, and where's the pigeon? Crazy, crazy! He'd been a bit strange even at school: he didn't talk much, didn't go to parties, and didn't like football—he only dwelt on this for a moment, because he was a tolerant man, accustomed to all sorts of behavior. He believed that everyone has their quirks, and that's it; there's no need to worry about it too much.
"A guy likes pigeons? Go ahead, why not? It's his business what he likes and what he doesn't! I'm not going to stop him! That's what it's all about, isn't it? That we're different, we're different. I like this, he likes that. You have to accept that and respect that. The whole philosophy!"
"What's up, pigeon! Look at that chick walking!" Andrzej tried to break the tense atmosphere, which had become tense from the balloon and the pigeon.
"Hmm... well, she's quite nice, I have to admit." Arek actually liked the girl his friend had recommended. Not that she was amazing, but she certainly provided a pleasant aesthetic experience. "And look at that ass!" he nudged his friend confidentially.
Andrzej grinned at Arek. Arkadiusz returned the meaningful smile, and they continued their journey. A few minutes later, they arrived. The pub was right next to the courtyard where the dead pigeon lay.
The place was no different from your average place of its kind. It was crowded, noisy, stuffy, and reeked of cigarettes. Squeezing his way to the right table, Arek noticed several televisions. One was showing a program showing music videos. The one with the big black men surrounded by a crowd of half-naked, sexy women was a must. The other was a football match. Of course, no one was watching TV; some were just staring blankly. They didn't seem to understand anything they were seeing.
Finally, they reached the right place. A few people were already waiting for them.
Two quite attractive women and one man.
"Hi everyone!" Andrzej said homely. "This is Arek, my friend from middle school. Do you mind if he joins us?
" "No! Of course not!" a chorus of voices replied. It's very nice to meet Andrzej's friend! Your friend is our friend! Hi Arek! Do you have a hamster? Do you like potatoes? Our boys put on quite a game, right?
" "Uh... Yeah, it was an amazing show," he lied, as he had no idea there had been a game recently. I don't have a hamster, but I did. I gave it back because we couldn't agree on the potatoes: I liked them, he liked them too, but differently.
"Shall we introduce ourselves now?" They said, and so they did, standing up one by one
and saying their names:
"Zygmunt.
" "Weronika.
" "Sylwia.
" "Hi everyone," Arkadiusz said shyly and sat down carefully on the edge of the bench.
He didn't like all this introduction, all these pleasantries, these questions. He disliked conversations that added nothing to our lives, these courtesies, these forced smiles. He hated all these pleasantries, these artificial faces that pretended to be interested in what you were saying. He had never been sociable and didn't really know how to behave in these kinds of situations. He felt awkward, and since he was naturally rather taciturn, he knew he was considered a stiff, grumpy, and completely unamused guy, which frustrated him even more. Arek began to observe his companions. Zygmunt looked like a little sly guy, a little scoundrel who stripped the bathrooms of toilet paper. Weronika was classic proof of the hypothesis that a woman's brain size is inversely proportional to her breast size.
And indeed, she had impressive breasts. Well, you can't have everything. It's a trade-off. Sylwia was an attractive brunette. She was texting. Probably to some idiot, Arkadiusz thought. He always wondered how people could spend so much time on their cell phones. Oh… these young people today. He sighed heavily, then began to listen to the conversation that had begun at his table.
In a nutshell, the conversation went like this:
First, a story about Agnieszka's party, briefly interrupted by a mocking remark about the length of a certain guy's penis and malicious laughter from the crowd, calling each other "faggots" or "Jews," describing various things they'd done while intoxicated, cheerfully nodding their heads in sympathy with these accomplishments, lewd jokes, discussing the latest episodes of Polish TV series, entertainment programs, and American films, commenting on the latest music hits on the charts, silly laughter
at hopeless, utterly unfunny things, coining neologisms like "jebaczek" (fuck), "dude," or phrases like "rupciu w pupciu" (a piece of junk in your butt), exchanging comments about downloading the latest ringtones onto cell phones, and general rambling about irrelevant things.
"Jesus Christ!" thought Arkadiusz. "What people! How shallow they are! I can't stand it!" What a moral decline! Absolutely no spirituality! Don't they have any intellectual needs? Who cares what happened at Agnieszka's party? Fools! Oh... what a world... Half-morons talking about meaningless things! What is this?
Compared to the universe!? How ridiculous and petty they are compared to those who seek the meaning of life, who deal with the metaphysics of existence! How terrifyingly gray and ordinary they appear
compared… compared to me!
"Jesus Christ!" Arkadiusz thought for the second time. "I practically don't know these people! I've only seen them for a few minutes, and I already have a formed opinion about them! I already despise and despise them! I consider them complete idiots who contribute nothing to the world!
On what basis do I think that?! Are they really worse than me? They're coal, and I'm coal! We'll end up the same way! Am I supposed to be better than them with my pseudo-philosophical dilemmas? On what basis? What do I know about them? About their lives? About their problems? Oh… I despise them, even though I know I shouldn't! I have no basis for it! So why do I despise them? Why, for God's sake, do I judge them?
"Jesus Christ!" Arkadiusz thought for the third time. "Isn't it true that a person exists only in comparison to another person? Everything is a matter of reference!
So, in order to exist, we must compare ourselves to other beings, form judgments about people we often don't know! Without judging others, we would be blind men suspended in a vacuum! We would be groping around, not knowing who we are! Oh...it's terrible that it has to be this way! How unfair, how unfair, how senseless!
" "Jesus Christ!" Arkadiusz thought for the fourth time, and grew tired. He looked for the waitress. He found her and suddenly met her gaze. She approached him. He ordered a vodka.
He waited for the drink with immense tension, beyond which he felt a complete emptiness, even though he couldn't feel it, for the simple reason that he felt that terrible tension caused by the enormous intellectual effort he was undergoing. Fortunately, a moment later he was tipping the glass to his lips. He drank it in one gulp. He felt the relief that usually accompanies alcohol. He took a deep breath and looked at the television. A small screen was showing a broadcast from a village disco in Pludwiny Górne. Arek watched the report for a moment, but he didn't have time to ponder what could possibly be interesting about this kind of entertainment, nor to curse the world, because the Great Mastodon, who presumably rules the universe, had something else planned:
"Attention, attention. We interrupt this program to bring you the news of the day. Today, twelve million people died of natural causes, eight million died in car accidents, three million died in fires, four died as a result of other circumstances, and one person was mauled by an enraged kangaroo that escaped from a private breeder. His name is Roger. The owner, distraught over the loss, is asking for any information about his pet. Several people were injured today from being beaten. We, of course, extend our deepest sympathy to the families of the victims. Of course, we also have good news. Our national football team has achieved another stunning victory.
The Polish national team defeated the East Timor national team two to one. Bravo, Poles!" The presenter had barely managed to utter these words before the broadcast
of the event in Pludwiny Górne resumed.
Arkadiusz nodded sadly. Not that he felt particularly sorry for the victims, but he felt that nodding was precisely the right thing to do at that moment. He looked around the room. Just as he thought – zero reaction. It's hardly surprising, he
thought. "Every day, from the time we were little, we're bombarded with this type of news. It's a bit sad, but I don't feel anything. Probably because the numbers are unimaginable. Besides, it all happened somewhere far away. Even though some tragedy could have occurred in the building next door, or even two floors above, it's still dozens of light-years away. Perhaps if someone sitting at this table, or perhaps the one next to it, suddenly died of a heart attack, I would be concerned. Besides, is death really so terrible?
" "Ah… ah… death… Death!" – an inherent part of life. We have to accept this fact. It may be sad, but it's certainly preferable to the prospect of eternal existence on Earth. People have to die so that others can be born. Balance. Harmony. The law of large numbers. Besides, how can you defy absolute chance if you can't?"
"Ha, ha—but I'm exquisite," he thought. "How easily I talk about death, which I fear immensely. I feel fear, perhaps illogical, senseless,
and irrational, but I can't help it. Even though I know I must leave this world and that it's natural, I don't want to, and I'm afraid of it! The very thought of everything ending fills me with a terrible fear! The emptiness that will come terrifies me! Even though I won't feel it, because I won't feel anything, I fear it, because it will be truly terrible,
and I should fear it! And if I shouldn't, then I should, because I fear it!"
Arkadiusz grew tired again. He glanced around the room. Suddenly, he saw something that surprised him greatly. Situated three tables to the left of him was a group of five young people who seemed to be having a wonderful time. Four boys and one girl. It seemed unsurprising, but one of the young men reminded him of… himself. The same curly hair, green eyes. Similar height and muscular build. Yes, there was no doubt – it was him! But – wait, wait – how could it be him, if he is where he is and nowhere else! Unless… there are two of him! Is that possible? But how can there be two, if he is only one!
"Jesus Christ!" thought Arkadiusz. "If there can only be one of me, then one of us isn't the real Ark, just brazenly impersonating him, pretending to be him! The only question is, which one? The one who seems happy, or the one who feels the eternal pain of existence? Or maybe there are more Arkadiuses?" Which one is real? The "me" sitting here
despairing over the intellectual condition of civilization and the moral decline of this world, or the "me" rejoicing? Or perhaps some other "me"? The "me" discussing
serious topics with a friend, the "me" fooling around with a friend, the "me" playing chess
with my dad, the "me" spending time with a classmate? Which of us is the authentic Arek? Ah...ah...how am I supposed to know? Ah...or maybe there are many of us, and all the Arkadiuses are real? Ah...and on top of all this, there's my own idea
of who I am, and the Arkadiusz I'd like to be! Furthermore, many Arks, representing different people's views of who I am, pass through my life! Ah...ah...are there so many of us? Isn't there one eternally present and universal Ark? And are we all equal members of the Absolute Arkadiusz? Then I'm never the same? Does this mean that different Arks are constantly coming to the fore, depending on the circumstances?
Or maybe not at all!
- And to what extent is "me" "me"? I mean, to what extent am I responsible for who I am, for what I am? Isn't my entire life, in a sense, determined by my genotype? Oh... who can tell me if my liking to fart in the bathtub is an individual trait, or if it was a preference passed down to me from my parents? Why does my existence depend so little on me? Biology! Oh... does biology rule everything? I feel so powerless, so small, so insignificant! Oh... sometimes it seems to me that I'm one big gene, which, on top of that, mutates in arbitrary, completely random ways! Oh... I know nothing! Oh... this is terrible, this is awful! Time for a drink.
Arkadiusz ordered another shot of vodka. He drank it rather greedily. However, it didn't bring him the desired solace. The other boy, who looked so much like him, was bothering him with his cheerful presence, brazenly harassing him with his joyful existence! Arek kept turning to observe the company at the other table. Their good humors surprised him. They seemed intelligent, distinct from the rest of the clientele, and yet they seemed to be having a wonderful time. Hmm… Arkadiusz pondered. “It always seemed to me that if you're intelligent, you see all the evil in the world, so you can't be happy. What are they so happy about?” he wondered. “I wonder if they've ever ridden a tram? Have they seen the sad faces of the passengers? Have they ever noticed their anxious hands, embarrassed legs, depressed bellies, hunched backs, frightened movements, and dejected looks?” Do they know their financial situation? Their problems? Their worries? Their concerns? Are they aware of human misery? Do they know anything about human misery? Do they, I ask you?! Probably not! Of course not! And even if they do, they pretend not to notice! They don't want to see, they don't want to know! They run away from it, eagerly discarding it from their newsfeed! They're like those horses
with blinders on! He turned his head. He thought sadly of the pigeon...
Arek couldn't stand the current state of affairs; he felt his mental balance,
even the harmony of the entire universe, had been shaken. He was overwhelmed by this intelligent cheerfulness, this joyful wisdom, and so he decided to learn more about this strange company. He stood up, picked up his camera bag, afraid to leave it behind, then calmly walked to a distance of one meter from the table occupied by this group of young people and simply stood. Simply
and simply, with both feet. Now he could take a much closer look at them. They all seemed like smart, intelligent people, but they behaved quite differently. They kept getting up from the table, doing somersaults, tickling each other, and having beer-drinking competitions with forks. Arkadiusz couldn't understand why they weren't discussing the metaphysics of existence, why they weren't searching for the meaning of life, why they weren't discussing literature, poetry?
Arek, by his insistence, attracted the attention of the only girl in this strange group.
"Can we help you with something?" she asked with exceptional politeness.
This politeness initially surprised Arkadiusz. He hadn't expected something like this from people who kept repeating, "I'm peeing in my pants," and, worse yet, laughing their heads off about it.
"Er...yes, of course, that's why I'm standing here, of course. I need a...tissue, a sanitary one...of course." If you could support me with something like this, I would be very grateful…
"Sure thing. Here you go. Would you mind taking the whole package at once?
" "No, no, thank you very much. One is quite enough for me. Thank you again. I'm extremely grateful... Goodbye... Have fun..."
He walked away towards his table. He put the tissue in his pocket. Halfway there, he felt a growing pressure on the walls of his bladder. After a moment's thought, he decided it might be a signal that he needed to pee. Just in case, he went into the bathroom.
Meanwhile, at the table where Arkadiusz had been standing, there was an uproar:
"You, Arek, that guy looks a hell of a lot like you!" Ania said to her friend.
"Pretty cool, huh? But not entirely: I'm much better looking and probably have a bigger dick! Ha, ha, ha! Besides, I don't give a damn. Let's get back to our straw structure. If we assume the tube is a cylinder, its volume will be...
" "What the tube! Fufi! Look at that guy! Fifu!" With those glasses, he looks like Mrożek!
"Mrożek? What are you talking about! He'd rather be Gombrowicz! Bupudupu!
" "Sratatata! Gombrowicz didn't wear glasses!
" "Hmm...indeed. Pluff! Pluff! You see, we should get on with our building..."
Arkadiusz walked over to the urinal, pulled out what he had to take out, and emptied his bladder. Suddenly, a devilish idea struck him:
"Maybe I should take a dump?" he thought with a wicked grin on his face. He stepped into the stall, closed it, took off his pants and underwear, and carefully sat down on the toilet. Once he felt more comfortable, he settled back and began to work his anal sphincter vigorously.
"Ah...ah...what a strange day! First that pigeon, then that pretty girl, a heart-shaped balloon floating upwards, a boy who looked like me...it all seems unreal!" Because how can one rationally explain such a set of things that have nothing in common? Untrue, improbable, impossible! Am I really here? And why here, when I could be in a thousand different places? What would happen if I were somewhere else? Ah…ah…it's somehow terrifying! Being here excludes myself from being anywhere else! What brazen stationarity, brutal passivity, blunt inaction, and shameless steadiness! An hour ago I was walking to my apartment, and now I'm in the bathroom! And where would I be and what would I be doing if I hadn't met Andrzej? Ah…it's a mystery…it's an unknown! It's very possible that I'm at home, like every day at this time, but one small coincidence was enough…and here I am! Ah…ah…how strange, how unreal!
Meanwhile, Weronika had just gotten drunk, Zygmunt, what a terrible accident!, was vomiting in the next stall, Andrzej had gone home because he had to put a suppository with an unspecified drug up his butt, and Sylwia had gone to the ladies' room.
in the company of a boy she'd just met. She'd probably asked him to explain the corpuscular-wave nature of light to her.
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