Łazowianie.pl - The unofficial site Lazy Town and Municipality.

(...) I have dreams about words, and nothing more.
J.-P. Sartre

And the sea has remained as it should be a sea of ​​similar situations. Nothing special. Some waves, sailboats, jet gray-blue water splashing. Boredom. I will not say, swarms of people, this could be something better, but nothing but an illusion, it turned out. Ambush in the sand under your feet: pits, valleys, gathering puddles. When you walk, you can not take the smallest slice embrace it all.

Therefore, the move is now in a normal, secluded place, on the street to the south of the country, and offers a strong autumn, there remains nothing but schlać out of this whole sad that surrounds us, and seizing on his way.

I love those moments, you know, because I did not expect at all in them that can be radically different from how it is always one of the options: heat or chill - you go outdoors, the sun shines, brush, barely a month ago, fans of robot as much as he raged, not been giving advice to the heat - and now going out the door, like the same hot, but none of it, no girls in miniówkach, what matters more liberated nightlife died in agony, even volatile police patrols in the evenings is not exhibit longer noses behind steamy windows squad car. Now I'm going for an afternoon stroll and you sweat, circling around the area, in the jacket, which should still remain deep in the bottom drawers, so you're thinking, but there is nothing else to do but bother with fever and leaves.

At one point the woman breaks off the wall painted annexes mdłoróżową paint bunches of ripe grapes. Hands is dotted with purple juice, fruit, and a single leaflet, milky, translucent, hanging from her right forearm.
- Good morning - I cast, I go.
- Good morning - she says, directing his gaze to my face, and this loop is clearly in a poor light of a miserable October sun.

Having spoken it freezes for a moment motionless, only the chirping sparrows under the roof of the garage, and then calm traffic turns and starts to pack on the rotting crops to the grid. Tears trickle down. There will be jars for the winter, such a goal motivates, juice of three daughters, two of which are still at issue, and the latter lives in the city with the child and her husband, and they even invested in a new car, because they can afford, and what, in the end developed in the capital and earns well.

Then there are the blue-red stain right before my eyes, so do not play anything like shadows of cars that rush forward with great speed. Perhaps it is.
Here's what everyone is waiting for: the end, the quest for anything, as long as soon as possible, come to fruition everything they dreamed from the start. Only death can target those wretched travels.

In the mountains of fresh snow just fell, climbing routes are cluttered with something white and cool tracks of wild animals, covered with trees, their bark is rotten and dried up so much that when it hits the hand, fall off.

Or empty rooms in empty houses, very moldy walls, curled carpets - is not something that should not be less than intellect? They should, but you can not.
- Only today my perspective widened enough to talk about it, baby.
- I do not understand - say.
- It's just crap, you have to evacuate from this place, anyone could write something like, say, whatever.
- ...

Nothing. Nothing. Jaws of the eyelids. Wojaczek recited to sleep and the whole rest of the guests, who knew exactly what it really goes. The whole mass of poetic phrases about death and the Baroque. Baroque in more modern edition, we understand each other.
- Automatic Writing is not what we want? Besides, who reads this?

I followed a time that is necessary to mention Romek.

Romek every day is a shallow guy, but here it goes. That's not it. Today Romek not give advice and, shouting to the max nervous, "I can not even able to Odebraliście wysrania to the toilet on their own," he went out, slamming the door. He did not look at the faces gathered around the table.

And they just ate dinner. As if nothing had happened, but no discontinued. At that point, it's interesting, all the right words stuck in his throat for good. The same thing with his hands - cutlery hover six inches above the plates. It can not be anything. Visitors from America were sitting at this table, the rich, say relatives. Coming towards the icy mountains, they went for coffee. And then, when the son came out, the old joints gently began to work again, laboriously loading pasta sauce in the mouth, esophageal, stomach. In this way produces shit.

Romek best describe attacks and unfounded claims głupawki. And all the words that right of self throws.

But this time it will be different, never more - of thought. Walking down the street, the Telepi and sways from side to side, people look like an idiot, like some bums. And that's just his style, that is, no style, you know, a piece of white skin in the garb of a bankrupt.

He gets in a taxi. The question "where?", Corresponds with verve, the kind of indefinite insanity, which overlaps at unexpected moments when nothing is in force you to move out of balance, that is, only you it seems, in any case he says, "Wherever "and go. With windows painted latish evening as the comics from the sixties, the sky, which is made from the feathers of rooks and ravens, as black and lively, and above all the elevations of the dead haunt skyscrapers, buildings. All decorated in a monochromatic palette of colors, even the windows, which should sparkle blue screens of television, are without life.

He got into the theater and the square was a large, spacious. Benches that surrounded the drunken lights space were splotchy white coating of guano birds, sat on them old women, talking quietly about soap operas and romance stars. Cast ahead wymiętego handfuls of wheat and bread, fed the pigeons.

He crouched on the curb, the world was covered in fog, which is free from falling from the tree canopy, and these seemed to be the silent statues of great heroes and martyrs in the name of their homeland. From the mouth of his wymsknęło some rebellious, foul language and very cold at exactly the time his eyes began to take place smoothly fatigue. Fog thickened. He lit.