the currents

I guess I'm going crazy - or at least my senses are. Today a gust of wind that smelt of May got through slightly open window into a streetcar. It was sweet, even a bit sickly. Also, I've already seen buds on trees (yes, I know, Warszawa is an urban heat island – but it still doesn't make the city buds artificial or less perverse than the country ones). The warm shade of sunlight makes Warszawa look different to me. On my way home I even noticed a few places where I would like to stroll aimlessly (something I never do, shame on me). The chiaroscuro works in favor of this city, it emphasizes the esthetic parts of it. (Dirty beggers are always in the shadow.) My body's response are longings. Desires. The lasting ones.
So, not surprisingly I have my delusions. Every so often I seem to notice Her on a bus stop, on a bike, on the other side of the street.
The time is kind of shrunk and I know that soon it'll be really warm. Today for a second my skin recalled this feeling it (she) gets on the hot July days, when the only thing my body craves for is a shelter from the sun.
It's like when you can't tell dream and reality apart. I'll get to know the warm currents again - for the first time.
I spent the whole Monday afternoon with the columns by Jeanette Winterson and the interview with her posted on the You Tube sites. This. Woman. Is. Life-giving. Her words, voice, her facial expressions. The gestures. It's really hard to believe she was brought up in a house without books, passion, without life. What strength does one need to possess to be capable of quoting as an anecdote their mother who once said: Why be happy when you can be normal? Where does one derive the strength from that enables them to fight "the dark side – the privilege of intelligence" with the very same intellect as their weapon? What "leitthought" prevents from dreaming all day long of coming home to hide as soon as possible? Where does the fire come from?
Love and art, JW’s answer would be. Love and art.