When I was leaving Poland, I heard a sentence saying that it's easiest to cut yourself off, pack up, and leave. It struck me very much, because
When I left, I intended to build, not to cut myself off from anything or anyone. Over time, however, some friendships did indeed end, but others either became stronger or were re-established. Only one thing hasn't changed: even though I live thousands of kilometres away from where I grew up, and I only see my family every few years, I haven't forgotten anything, and I've never cut myself off from that part of my existence: from my roots. Quite the opposite – a large part of my writing is inspired by memories. This is also the case this time.
I remember my grandmother's hands – worn out from working in the fields, around the farm and in the house. My mother's hands – more delicate, though also unacquainted with rest. And today I look at mine – soft, not hard-worked, or at least not so much. It is difficult, however, to compare work behind the wheel or at a computer to working in the fields from dawn till dusk. The appearance of my hands is not solely the result of greater availability of goods such as cosmetics. It is also the result of decisions that both my grandmother and mother made in their lives.
To one, each in their own way and at their own time, made choices that, more or less directly, have led me to where I am today and from which I can bravely write this text.
Inheritance, however, does not only refer to material assets left in a will…
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