Flowing Moments of Life

Moments. Life is filled with them. It consists of them. And so, they flow, like water, one into the other. Like water in a mountain stream. Or they may be compared with the movements of an ecstatic dance. But there it is, the movement. And there is statics too, of course. The point at which they come together is especially fascinating - when you yourself are resting, almost motionless and looking just straight ahead, but observing the action. It can be compared to a static video shot showing movement, showing life.

And here's the day. An ordinary day. A special day. It's good when every ordinary day is special. And they are like that - you just have to retain the skill to notice it. And what's so great about this day?

Here it is. In a nutshell. A walk through the city. Beautiful green streets. Enjoying the summer, which is just as it should be: warm, comfortable, not scorching, with a breeze. Food market. Back home. Coffee and American pancakes with maple syrup. Talking to a friend: about all sorts of things, important and not-so-important. She shares with us where she saw fireflies the other day. Right in the wild. We're thinking in the evening: "We should go there one of the next days." And a little later: "Why wait? Let's go now!" And we go. It's already dark. It's almost nighttime. Walk. Walk. Walk. Here we are. We did not see a lot of them, but a couple of them appeared - they teased us a little with their "switch-on" and quick "switch-off". But in addition to fireflies we saw foxes. A couple of them, too. They weren't too scared. But they didn't want to interact much either. They stood aside, watched us, waited until we left. Beautiful evening. Beautiful night.

Beautiful spontaneity. It's like jumping into flowing water. It's like spinning in a dance. It's about letting the moments of life flow through you.

A Forest of Spirit

Last winter, at the turn of the old and new year, we went to the forest. It was the day of the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. The end and the beginning. On such important natural days, we always try to interact with it, with nature. And it is very important for us not to lose touch with the forest. So we chose a forest not far from Krakow and went there on a snowy December day.

And we got what we were looking for. And more than that. We communicated with the trees. We rolled in the snow. We felt one with nature. After all, nature doesn't leave us - it's people who move away from it, even though they are always a part of it. We walked around and felt that our spirit and the spirits of nature, and its Spirit are one.

And apart from the sense of the intangible, we simply enjoyed the views. Among other things, we found ponds that looked literally like something out of a fairy tale or some kind of fantasy. And then we decided that we would come back to this place again in spring.

So we did. At the end of May, we visited the forest again. We spent even more time there. We settled our winter debt to leshy. Once again we enjoyed the view of the ponds - now in a springtime entourage. And once again we felt that spiritual, immaterial, with which the forest is permeated. And (importantly), those places gave us inspiration for new parts of the book "Cloch and Bua".

Indeed, photos don't really give you the feeling of space. Neither the sense of the spiritual. But here they are. And perhaps you, too, can feel inspired through them?

What are the features of magical realism?

The other day, we had a discussion with my friend Konstantin (who is also an excellent writer and musician) on how to describe the style of "magical realism". What's special about it? How is it different from other styles? What are its characteristics? We discussed the 'official' origins of the style – the Latin American writers, and the fact that before them the characteristics of this style were certainly found in the works of many authors. Some resources, for example, classify Gogol as one of them. We also discussed the fact that this style, although more richly represented in Latin America, certainly has no territorial limitations: Polish Tokarchuk, Chinese Mo Yan, British Gaiman... We compared it with symbolism and surrealism. And finally came to the idea that magical realism can be a little difficult to cram into the framework of techniques and definitions - rather, it is a feeling that arises from the reading. A general atmosphere that, regardless of the specifics of the plot, can be seen in the works of different authors.

It would be interesting to know the readers' opinion in this regard. How would you describe the style of "magical realism"? What is it, that common, you can feel in the works of Cortázar, Márquez, Murakami? Feel free to write back with your ideas and opinions!

For a brief foreword, I would like to attach a short piece – a sketch I wrote a few days ago.

"Skin furrows-canyons. Washed with oil. Which revives. You look closer, imagining yourself wandering on yourself. A mini version of yourself. A time of transformations-shrinkings. You'll walk to your nails, slip there, as you're just out of the shower, and your nails are wet and slippery. But you'll manage to catch on a little burr. You'll jump up like an acrobat, and land: not too hard, not too soft - just about right. You'll try stomping on your skin to test the pressure when you're miniaturised. And then suddenly you'll remember all your birthmarks - sacred places on your body map. And will go on a pilgrimage: first to one, then to a second, to a third. To all of them. And, on the way, you'll hear the gurgling and bubbling - the internal eruptions of your own body."