Here in Cracow, nothing really happens. I mean, in the "body" department. Cracow is known as a city where never anything happens, sort like in Talking Heads' song "Heaven". Time flies, relationships begin and end, people are born and die, in the meantime they drink ocean of alcohol and philosophize about practically everything, but it doesn't seem to push the world forward. The famous joke about Cracow is that half of its citizens live off of the other half without working or any other source of income, but everything neatly comes together and nobody really knows how it happens.
Me, I'll be selling my house next year, most likely. At least I made the decision to kill the ghosts at last. This, in turn, will result in buying flat in Cracow - a decision that I always wanted to postpone for times when I'll be buying it for myself, the wife and planned kids, but as it frequently happens - life doesnt go as planned and you have to deal with things you never dreamed of (in my case - state of semi-depression and semi-alcoholism). I am also thinking about quitting job - it's surprisingly well paid for its kind and because of it it makes one lazy, but it is also perfectly cracovian - it puts you into the state of nothingness where you are someone only by what you create with your brains, socially it's deteriorating.
I also plan to begin writing PROPERLY. I am not dreaming about JK Rowling kind career, but I reached the period where I have too many ideas worthy spreading to be left forgotten. The problem is they are never nice and social (in fact - quite the contrary) and writing about them may prove to be literally deadly for the author. This is where art meets social compromise and there's no solution for the dilemma - humans are only humans and it will stay like this.
Well, time will tell.
