In the dead of night, rain seeps from the low hanging clouds in total darkness. The refugees head towards the little town, step by step. They hope they will not miss it. Many more kilometers to go. They are still in the mountains. Exhausted and exasperated. Black thoughts set in more and more. Maybe the guide deceived them? Maybe he miscounted the mountain ridges. Maybe they took the wrong turn. God help us!
An empty dimly lit street in a city somewhere in the south of Poland. There is a car coming and in its headlights you can see a silhouette lying on the road. Despite all of the driver’s attempts to brake and stop, the car hits the person and the impact of the crash makes the car jerk. The driver stops and a moment later, without even leaving his car, he quickly drives away.
God, I would like to thank you that I have not cheated, hurt, robbed or murdered anyone today. Thank you that I have not coveted my neighbor’s wife nor done any of these things… but now I really need your help because I am getting up and going to work.
I guess many of us have experienced more or less stormy conversations with our wives about our work. You don’t earn enough, you come back home too late, you go to training with who-knows-who or you are too involved to stop thinking about work.
I hate hospitals. Really. The smell, weird atmosphere of silence and solemnity bring me down. And as I am generally a dynamic person, slow hospital life makes me feel like a fish out of water. I don’t know what to say or do. I feel that no matter what I say, it will be inappropriate. If I joke, it will come across that I don’t see the seriousness of the whole situation. Talking about problems just deepens the depressive feel. Silence is the worst and the most awkward. I guess each one of us has places that he likes to avoid. The dentist, the boss’ office, the Revenue Office, but for me hospitals are the worst.