There are misunderstandings all around me. It’s all connected to my case, or it has nothing to do with it at all. It can’t decide whether it’s important to me or completely meaningless. I suspect that my surroundings want to tell me something about myself, but they don’t say it directly. For example, the things I look at, or the things I take into my hands — all of this activates something in me, but I don’t know what it activates. It seems that everything has been turned upside down, it makes me feel incomplete. Some terms are reaching me, but they don’t have a clear origin; instead, they have an obvious delay. They predict what is happening, suggest there will be an important event, that the solution is close. They promise much but fail to satisfy. They explicate much but explain little.
There is a problem, that much is certain. I suspect it may not be true, and yet I feel its consequences.

There are entire weeks when nothing happens, and there are moments in which a week’s worth of happening takes place. Not all days look the same. My surroundings are still full of ambiguities, but sometimes there is a chance of a clear change. 
Sometimes I get the feeling that my surroundings are ready to treat me in a particular way. They still resist, but without much conviction, as if ready to give up. They almost seem to be opening up. It’s as if thinking takes place in the same material my surroundings are made of, in a language I don’t know. And when I look around, I feel a kind of initiation — I don’t know into what yet, but I truly feel it. And when I look at this thing, for example, and take this object in my hands, none of this seems to matter anymore. Everything seems like something that had to have happened to me. And when I look around, I see a growing tendency to agree on distant qualities. Everything begins to associate with everything else, connecting sufficiently. There are no more side motives, it is no longer possible to separate what is on topic from what is off topic. And even when I know I’m mistaking something for something else, I don’t feel like I’m wrong. And even when I see things where they’re not, I’m sure it makes sense.
These are special moments. They never last long. As soon as this sense of self begins to thicken, I stop recognising myself in my impressions. When I look around, everything still appears to me at once, but not together. One feeling encounters the opposite feeling, each one goes in a different direction. Directions stop agreeing, things start staggering. When everything finally starts to connect, it starts to fall apart right away. Everything is so ‘maybe’ already, all around me are only undecided facts, only misunderstandings. I only know there’s a problem, but I don’t even know anything about it.

And so I spend my days looking for something I don’t know. What I pick up is not what I reach for. The problem keeps shifting. Even if I found something, I wouldn’t find anything. The real solution lies somewhere else than I expect.

Łukasz Rodziewicz