The Krakow Diaries

75 days in Krakow. On a literary grant from the German Kulturstiftung der Länder. In the Guesthouse of the 16th century Villa Decius, with 10 other writers from Poland, Germany, Belarussia, Ukraine and Georgia. Beautiful city. Nice Krakovians. Fun nightlife. Beautiful women. And in the guesthouse: Meetings of the minds. Too much vodka. Good friends. One of the great pleasures of my life.

Day #44: Monday, Oct. 30: Mirek is alive!

Already I had suspected the worst. I hadn't seen him for days. His room was strangely silent. The thundering techno-dance-beat music that otherwise shook the villa guesthouse during the day had ceased. Late at night, after three or four in the morning, i would creep down into the kitchen in hopes of finding him and a bottle of vodka waiting for me, but the kitchen was empty. Did he return to Warsaw? Or... worse? I lay in bed nights wondering if I should venture into his room and look for clues to the silence, but whenever I reached the door, a strange superstition, a fear of what I might find behind it, drove me away.

Then, today, thirsty for the comfort of a beer, I entered the dark, silent kitchen, reached into the fridge and found... this.

Oh Mirek, I forgive you! You're alive! Alive! That's all that matters!


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