January 31st

Sunset, late January

I don’t consciously retain memories, I am a leaky vessel for things that happened. I understand and know some things that happened to me or in my life, but I don’t recall details — a face, a setting, sound, words that were said…

There are years that I simply don’t remember— things happened, I’ve been to places, meet people, had situations at work and home; cannot recall them — for example what I did I do whole 1997 or 2012? I lived though those years without any conscious memories. I don’t think I tried to remember things as they were happening, I guess I just let them be. Even today, with sober mind, I have no idea what I will remember from 2021, or 2020 (the only thing from 2020 that I retain is my therapy in Sokółka but even with that I am forgetting names, faces, voices — not only of other patients there but also of therapists, except of course Ada who I see every week).

Memories and remembrances of particular events come to me usually with a smell — when I suddenly am taken back to a place and a situation many years ago that somehow is connected with that smell. Usually it’s a memory of a moment on the street or at a house or somewhere outdoors — and it’s always a memory connected with summer (or warm weather) — I guess that’s when there are more smells to intake and remember than in winter.

I recall almost nothing from my life that has to do with winter — except for that winter 1994 when I lived in Kingston, New York and for several snow storms and dangerous driving situations I was involved in. One more thing — I remember my first winter after coming back to live in Poland, winter of 2011–2012 and Augustów where I went to visit Jola almost every other weekend… (I remember being obsessed with “Pumped up Kicks” by Foster the People from that time as well, and feeding ducks and swans on the Netta River).

Evening clouds in late January.

I have no clue what I will remember from 2021 — 5 or 10 or 20 years from now, I will not make any conscious effort (this blog might help, if I don’t delete it or there is a global internet scrub). I will be content, as I am now, with those moments — wholly unexpected — to come to me in those moments when I am between dream and consciousness, when I am fully at bliss and careless of my worries.



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footsteps of the Furies

footsteps of the Furies

“for they knew what sort of noise it was; they recognize, by now, the footsteps of the Furies”. Enjoying life on the road to recovery. Observing and writing.