After I took my leave of Lital, I went to the Rynek Starego Miasta Warszawa. Stare Miasto of the pastel coloured buildings that I'd first fallen in love with three years ago in Gdansk, the medieval square with a famous mermaid statue, destroyed in 1944 and then rebuilt from ashes after WWII. I long for you. What other thoughts shall we paddle and think? I walked around. There were still too many tourists for my taste. I gulped my soft ices and wondered why more days couldn't be like this. I wondered if I would ever love and adore wildly again. I briefly wondered if anyone could possibly recommend me jobs here in Warszawa - now this, I thought, was a city I would like to live in.
My only problem is that I find it hard to care, sometimes. And this makes me poor in articulation and diction and probably conversation as well. I say whatever comes into my mind, with a dash of madness, and people take it as a sign that I'm cleverer than I really am, when that's not the case. I spout off words like schadenfreude and I gloat; I quote silly words, I go through motions, I like people but then not really. I have a framework that I operate to and my own rules that I play by, but when you ask me where the rulebook is, I tell you that I tossed it out of the window.
The pictures in this entry are very pretty, if I do say so myself.
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