Mythos and logos

The mighty ones spoke. Inscrutable they were - so mighty. With the voice, which vibrations caused floods and eruptions of volcanoes, they told and guided. People listened. Harked. Revered. Then people tried to echo the mighty ones - they realized that it wouldn't be perfect, but tried to imitate. Sometimes it worked out well. And five of them thought: "Let us strive even better, so that our voice becomes like that of the mighty ones". And fifty thousand thought: "We are doing great!" And the fifty thousand drowned those five. Then they forgot about the mighty ones - so intently they looked at themselves, so intently listened to themselves. Then they forgot about imitation as well - considered the mighty ones a lie, decided to bow to the voice that got petty: shallowness instead of floods, and only hatred erupted. Why, why do they need the voice?

October news

October (especially its second half) happened to be saturated with various literary events.

22 October there was a regular meeting of the "Krakow Writers' Group", being a part of which is a great joy and source of inspiration for me. The whole evening of that day contributed to getting inspiration: the streets of Krakow, breathing with magic, the evening after rain... And the meeting of fellow writers, reading works, reflecting upon them.

While on the 28th of October, I was lucky enough to participate in the Conrad Festival, the major literary festival of Krakow. It was nice to listen to the authors reading out their works in their native languages (there were authors from Portugal, Netherlands, Czechia). That is a great idea of the European project CELA - let the original languages of the works sound. Still, the evening was not limited to the original languages - there were also works presented in English. So, as part of the evening, I read the English version of my story "The Day of Scream".

October

October. The month of strength. The month of contact. The month when doors are opening. When our world steadily fades into the background, giving the floor to the other world. At the end, the peak. Be wakeful. For the dead speak. When leaves fall, the voices of ghosts resurge. And it becomes particularly calm, particularly deep, oblivious. Quiet. As their voice is as loud as the sound of that falling leaf. The time of unity with the otherworldly.