On this Thursday before Christmas, i find myself relishing a Depeche Mode Tour on tv, like the old days at Kinski [pub] - in Sopot. Well made pierogi, good nice crisp polish beer, thin long cigarettes, familiar faces, talking seems so fucking effortless. guess what - i dont have to filter myself through my translation. god it feels so good. to not have to be sarcastic about depeche mode or U2 because we all love it and we know why: because it's fresh, because it's the symbol of our parents' 20something freedom years to which we all yearn to compare our 20something years to.
Working overtime? Nah.
It might have been economically troublesome for the whole country but at least they all got creative and still kept having decent amounts of fun, running their little businesses, owning less than 6 pairs of shoes, oh my.
Im sorry Im just so fucking sentimental right now. It catches up with me every 3 months or so. When I read a Polish book, like I am now, and it's just so easy. it's easy to express yourself through the references one was born into, you dont have to compare and imagine what you are in this society. fuck. yea i guess people in general are all the same. yet we're not. when i step outside of that Gdansk Polish Airport, I feel home. The air smells so ... right. Familiar. People's emotions get to me, my family gets to me, I dont filter it. I just react to it without previously examining it. It is a wonderful experience. I miss all of you. Our fun. Our family thing, how hot tempered we are, how fucking anxious and tense we always are. How right we always must be, but how easily we can make fun of ourselves. I love all of you,
Mia
Your sincerity is so inspiring Mia. It shows through very clearly. I am suddenly jealous of being even still an outsider, of having a secret past that few now have seen. Though I also feel the struggle, that is, because you wrote it all so nicely. Ugh, good one.
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