The hiatus continues, certain decisions are waiting to be made, and I am waiting along with them. I try not to write, but I’m failing. The piece is sort of writing itself. It just doesn't let me stop thinking about it. I keep adding bits and pieces to it, take away others, onwards I go, in general. And whenever I try to leave it be and think about something else, I quickly get pissed and I fall into destructive mode. Mainly on an interpersonal level. So, I’m not fighting it.

And, by the way, I’m getting all sorts of ideas, some very different from the old ones. The text has taken on a clear form. I can hear it in its entirety, I can sense it very distinctly, so to say. But when looking at the details, that sensation is slipping away and at times I have no idea what now, or what next. It’s like this every single time, but more so this time, it seems. I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes.

I saw cats in the window. They thought I was stupid, that I see only one. They could’ve thought so, but they were wrong.

(transl. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)