I found a book by a Polish author between the seats of a great coach which was transporting me from my rural home to my place of work
As always I sat in the front seat of the coach as I enjoyed the panorama of strange travel
I even enjoyed the monotony of the grey cities
As the coach moved from lane to lane I suddenly realised that the satellite navigation system that was being used by the driver was giving directions in Polish
This disturbed me slightly as I thought all satellite navigation systems spoke English
We stopped in traffic the driver turned to me
I tell you he is so homesick
Why
It wants to return to Southern Poland where the summers are so hot and the winds magical
I have found a book between the seats perhaps I should read a few of the stories to your tiny machine
Is it about Poland
Yes
If it pleases you do so then please do
I placed the satellite navigation system on my lap with its screen facing me and with a little difficulty began reading from The Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz
The machine seemed to relax but soon was questioning the stories
I read from the Book of Holidays
Many of the stories deal with childhood and borrow liberally from the works of the great philosopher Witkeiwicz
When oil was struck the once quiet town was changed into a brawling and boozing place where good people closed their curtains at dusk and did not open them until the sun rose again
The shops of my childhood became neglected and soon were bars and other places of decadence
I longed for my childhood
But it was another country as people say
The great philosopher tells us that childhood is full of images and some of these images are of great significance to us
We carry them with us for the rest of our lives
Sometimes we cannot see them but they are always there in our consciousness
I was looking through a train window a few years ago and saw a fire escape on the side of a hospital
It was a very ordinary fire escape but I was immediately transported back to my childhood
I had climbed a fire escape at a hospital during my father’s final illness
I did not want others to see me cry
And then until that day I had forgotten that fire escape where for a while I had hidden myself away from the world
There was never a guarantee of secure borders and even at that young age I knew that
We were in heavy traffic and the rain had begun to fall
I watched the wipers as they cleared the screen without effort
The red taillights of cars and buses glistened in the dullness of the day
I thought of the Devil and then of God
These images are retained by the soul and are believed to travel with oneself after death
They are the original ingredients
Through our childhood experiences we understand the world
There is nothing new
We like to think that everything we see is through new eyes but we have experienced it before
Even in the cradle we acquire wisdom
As we grow older we try to find answers to everything
That is a folly
The answers are to be found in our consciousness and sub consciousness
As I read from the book I noticed that the small screen of the satellite navigation system was beginning to fade
I tapped it lightly
I would like to think that the battery is responsible or there is a problem with the power source
But its behaviour is too erratic
I think that this small machine is pining for its homeland
The driver gently picked up the ailing machine and placed it on the screen not far from the steering wheel
Quite often good people such as yourself board my coach and find the book secreted between the seats
I encourage them to read to my satellite navigation system
It understands English as I do
But it is only a matter of time until I enter the coach and find it lifeless
Can you not return it to Southern Poland
It is too late as things have changed so much
You yourself mentioned the discovery of oil
They no longer sell pomegranates in the dusty streets of his town
Like mine it is wilderness of greed
That is why I drive this lovely coach
And think of our hot summers and of the magical winds
2018