Bookmark #509

Now that I have cleaned the house and calculated how much money I spilt on booze in the past week, I can sit down and write properly. Nothing much has changed in the apartment; the desk is the same, the grass is the same, and so are the hills. A mushroom decided to sprout in one of the pots, perhaps, to keep one of the plants company. Nothing much has changed besides that, except that even with every window and door sealed, there was dust on everything when I entered, but that is irrelevant and, if anything, expected. When untouched, almost all things gather dust, even memories. As I sit here and write these words, it occurs to me how there was so much of myself I had forgotten and so much that came to light when I found myself outside this apartment and this town. This trip halfway across the world has done nothing but dust these parts off. And now that they are out in the open, I shall try to make good use of them. In the Tatra mountains, I felt closer to home than ever before, and also in them did I find new perspective. With each step and each word shared, I now know how every part of me fits together better than ever before.

As much as I am against any sort of predestination in life, I believe you sometimes get the feeling. Sometimes, you hike across a mountain range and see a stranger walking towards you, who raises their hand and says cześć to you as you pass them by. And you start thinking about how every decision, large or small, made in your life led to that hello. Even if one little thing had gone differently, you might never have been on this trail, or even if you had, you would still not cross each other. It is baffling how we rarely stop to think about these things. And what if everything is chaotic? Then, we must pay even more attention. If it is about probabilities and permutations, then I am lucky to have experienced everything I have in this life. The odds of it happening were impeccably low, yet all of this has happened. All of it really happened.