The Next Chapter
Władek is an old friend of mine. The days we first got to know one another have passed long, long ago. Lots of time has passed by since then, but he’s always been here — he always gets up in the morning and shaves like me, or like Old Man Kalina; he washes his face and hands, his rear end, and adds a little to the methane cloud. And all in the sight of God, who is everywhere, and in the plain sight of the thousands of galaxies that make up the cosmos.
Władek liked to go to the bar that Barszczyk opened. In the rear there is this mini-bordello. Two foreign chicks work at it. They charge fifty złoty for their services. So Władek would go off to the bar for a beer, thinking how beautiful the world is. But he never forgot what his granddad told him: an excess of rapture over
