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Well, now that was a lot of work. I am doing some work on this group in the hope of making it a bit more user friendly. For today, I haven’t got a lot to say. I have put up all of the court testimonies on the own blog. You can check them out by pressing “HERE”. It tool a lot of hours to do it, and you can probably see by some of my word choices exactly how sick of all of this I am getting. The court date is set for the 10th of February, but I am beginning to feel that there is simply no reason at all to even consider going to Poland. Aside from any feelings of personal danger, the cost, both in terms of my wallet and my soul is simply too great. I am thinking about this today in my musings. And also, please do go over and check out the annotated court testimonies. I mean, I am starting to feel a little daunted over the sheer volume of work I have put into all of this... Anyway;


Quoting other writers.

Tatyana was talking to me about this the other night. She was trying to be helpful, but when she got Shakespearean on me, I started to listen to what she was saying.
“To go or not to go…” She said. “Adam, you just can’t spend all of your life fighting for nothing. For them, this is nothing, for you, you are only spending all of your money. And every time, you take all of your stuff because you never know if they are going to put you in jail… or worse. And then we don’t even know where to put the stuff because we have no money. Hospody! (My God) And we don’t speak Polish. I think of every time I had to go to be with you. And we are dragging our things through the streets like immigrants. Ugis! (The horror) And my work was terrible to me in this time. You received this letter and they received that letter. And all the time nobody here could understand why I was always so sad. They started to beat me in my work, they took some money from me. These are our people, yes? But then they gave me these days to come to you in your Poland. I told my boss there were court dates and he understood. But the looked at me as if I was a crazy woman. My child asked me if I was stay and sit with him. But I went. It was in the summer and in the fall and then in the Winter. And I never was in a foreign country. I was so afraid of this, always. Maybe not so much here because you are with me. But you were afraid too, I could see this. And then you said that this was the last of the situation and that after this last time in Poland, it would be your last. So I didn’t think about it more. But do you remember the fights. Maybe you now why. Maybe we all make our own problems. But now you are a little stringer. I think you are stronger because you forgot your Poland. But really, I can’t imagine you would go back to those same streets and into that same building. Ugis… Ugis….”
And I mean, she has a point. I have been feeling really on edge again lately. I don’t sleep well. Part of me tells me to go and face them, but I simply cannot find it within myself why I should put myself out for more it. It was like having cancer, I guess. You just sit their while it eats away at you. And you can feel yourself dying, you can feel your heart getting weaker… going under…
To die… to sleep… perchance to dream, ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,--
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,--puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry...

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