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About Lodz

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

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So, I rush back to ul. Słowackiego, where my mom lives. I’m sweating, thinking about all the weeds I gotta pull. But when I get there, she’s made pierogi! Like, how can I be mad? I’m stuffing my face, and suddenly, all my worries disappear.

Obituary: Emil Neumann