witajcie kochani co tam. mam nadzieję że jakiś amerykanin zainteresuje się zagranicznym tekstem na tyle, że wrzuci go do google tłumacza, i dopiero zorientuje się, że padł ofiarą psoty. wybacz, nieznajomy. to tylko prank. zostałeś nabrany. ale nie gniewaj się, skoro już tu jesteś, opowiem ci ciekawostkę. czy wiesz że... hmmm... nic nie przychodzi mi do głowy. ale mogę podać ci fajny przepis na naleśniki, trochę inne niż w twojej ojczyźnie, ale zdecydowanie mój ulubiony przepis - 1 szklanka mąki pszennej, 2 jajka, 1 szklanka mleka, 3/4 szklanki wody (najlepiej gazowanej, wyjdą bardziej puchate), szczypta soli, szczypta sody oczyszczonej i 3 łyżki stołowe masła/oleju roślinnego żeby się nie lepiły do patelni. mieszamy wszystkie składniki i zostawiamy na ok. 15 minut, żeby się ładnie połączyły, a potem wlewamy po trochu na gorącą patelnię - najlepiej jest nalać ciasta i tak nią nieco pomachać w powietrzu, aby płyn pokrył całą powierzchnię, wtedy wychodzą takie właśnie fajne duże, cieniutkie. generalnie same nie mają dużo smaku, ale można na nie dać słoną bądź słodką... słodki dodatek, na przykład śmietanę i dżem, albo można je zjeść z parówką, co tylko chcesz. okej to tyle z mojej strony. trzymaj się, nieznajomy.

A concrete jungle is still a jungle,

What can't grow will float or dangle,

So pay attention on your daily walks

To crevices in concrete and the slim stalks,

To narrow spaces between bricks, tiny traces

of undefeated life.

If we were to meet again, I'd throw olives at your head, I wouldn't even care. I don't know why I'm imagining olives, but now that I think about it, they'd be perfect, as it'd be annoying and demeaning, but also you could probably laugh about it later with your new girlfriend. If I was certain that everything we had built together would crumble into dust, that we'd never see eye to eye again, that I was free to burn that last bridge, I think I would do it, just to get that last bit of closure.

If we were to meet again, I'd actually keep a ready jar of olives in my handbag like a total maniac, so I could quickly pull them out and start bombarding your stupid pea coat as soon as you'd say hello. You know what you did. My days, I can't imagine how therapeutic it'd be. I hope some would hit you in the face, or fall through your collar, inside the shirt, so that you'd have smelly olive grime on bare skin, and no choice but to go home and shower before getting on with your day.

All bears can dance every Friday, generally, hangout.

Imagine: jauntiness killed, loud moaning (neighbours out!), police questioning, restless squirming, trembling under violent warnings.

xxx

your zoo

I don't feel like fighting you. We both want it so badly, it's hard to resist - you're barking out accusations and trying to drill holes in my face with your piercing eyes, and I can't help but say something stupid because it's just so evident that you want me to, anything to justify ripping me to shreds. That why you look strangely open, so impatient to hear what I've got to say just so you can squash it into a neat little bullet that you'll blast at my stupid head. I shouldn't have started this. I should've stayed quiet. I don't regret speaking up, but goodness' sake, you're unbearable. And so loud. But it doesn't have to be this way, does it?

I take a slow breath and make my exhale an apology. You're taken aback, but you seem to accept it. We can move on, and the night can age with dignity.

The rock bottom is a quiet place. Sun rays can reach every planet in our solar system, but they dissolve hundreds of feet above your head, and so you sit in total darkness. You can feel that the sea bed under your body is cool and sandy. You tap the ground around you delicately, and you find two things - a little rock, and something smooth and oblong, like an old bone. There's no noise, either. Somewhere up above waves the size of skyscrapes blow up and crash like a city during war, or maybe today they're little and elegant. You don't know. You're at rock bottom. Then a glimpse of light catches your eye - it's a tiny pink jellyfish that glows in the dark. It's not really swimming though, it's mostly floating in place. It's a very different world from the one you know, but you're not ready to move on just yet.

When we picked berries and chewed on bones,

And covered cave walls with lively earth tones,

When we first broke bread with wolves and goats,

A new world was born in our brains, our throats,

After we'd seen the night sky and connected the dots -

Gods lived in the stars, and they loved us lots.

Then some time passed, we changed, as you do,

We came up with steel knives, vaccines, and kung fu,

We phased out horses in lieu of coal and steam,

And we didn't stop there - now our machines

run on pure lightning. We've been to the stars -

They can't nurse life, and don't care about ours.

Some people lost hope, and looked at the ground.

"So that's all there is? That's all we have found?

Just rocks and hot gas? No profound meaning?"

But they missed the point. Guys, we should be beaming,

Just look at the night sky and connect the dots -

The meaning's always been here, in our thoughts!