In FICTION by Jacek Dziubiński

Jacek Dziubiński

TEA – each day the same – I get up – I steam some tea – whole realms with their lives – masterpieces of craft – at the bottom of the cup

What is, is beautiful.
On that very day he decided to leave his house.
To have a look around.
It’s not easy to find one’s place in the world, mom.
It was a disaster: the time of witch-hunt, the hunt for a scapegoat.
Risking stabbing pain and financial discomfort, he yielded to sudden
temptations and fleeting stirrings of lust. In someone as pedantic as him,
moments of happiness were like flamboyant paintings adorning the walls of a
noble bank.
He found it hard to control his faltering body, his muscle tone weakened. He
was reluctant to see his reputation go. Of course he was repeatedly
humiliated, became the target of bitter, hurtful words. But he was rich. Could
fame mean anything to him?
The neighbors had come earlier. The moldy dampness of slanderous hatred
was accumulating in the room. Who will trust him after this?
Many days in the desert. The endless monotony of the sea of sand. Thirst and
loss of direction.
This man was the toast of the town. It was difficult to pass him by indifferently.
Complex nature. He had to go through a lot to develop so many layers; so
many planes.
He doesn’t need to change, not a bit. He meets or creates people who
understand him. He no longer fears opprobrium. He breathes. Life becomes
like a walk on the beach.
The desire that everything turns out the way you want, the expectation to
succeed. You can’t even imagine what people living with hurt are capable of.
I’m beginning to learn who I am, how I behave. I haven’t had the chance
To regain hope, one must first lose all self-confidence and totally give up.
Nothing could rob him of his dignity. He was free, no longer afraid of pain. He
paid no heed whatsoever to the recurring assaults. The shadow. It took him
some time to overcome the fits of hurt. But in the end he became immune,
one could even say, 100 percent immune.
The reactions were generally predictable, but the events would have taken a
different turn if the circumstances had been less favorable. The sound of
footsteps on the cobblestones. Resounding in the hot air. In the sweltering
heat people bumped into one another, even jostled with outright hostility. An
air of nervousness could be felt. The rumors of the extraordinary incident only
added to it. Some, however, found pleasure in watching the outbursts of
tension. It would no doubt prove a rewarding field of study for a young
ambitious sociologist. The surging discontent left little room for dialogue or
feigned decorum. The situation was further compounded by the presence of
the gated community nearby, the ostentatious symptoms of status.
He concealed his feelings, hid them behind a fake facade, assuming an air of
cynicism and indifference. But it appalled him to think that he could be
rejected by those who remained loyal to him through thick and thin.
He denies himself the right to be himself.
In a constant struggle he tries to sever all ties with his former self.
To make a new life, to become a new person.
Nothing is worse than to cling to the thought that things could have turned out

About the Author
Jacek Dziubiński

Jacek Dziubiński

Jacek Dziubiński is educated in philosophy, a writer, poet, translator, painter and book designer. He loves the mountains, the sea and solitude. Jacek's website. Other LEVEKUNST articles by the same author.

Photo of Boy with Pet by Jacek Dziubiński
Translated by Miron Rusek

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