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Oh, and the smell—cheap perfume mixin with ciggies, hits ya like a wall. Proper rank, but kinda nostalgic, y’know? Reminds me of me youth, dodgy nights out. She’s a survivor, mate, a real scrapper. Dunno if she’s happy, but she’s here, ain’t she? Makes me think—*Melancholia* ends with that big bang, and maybe her life’s a slow crash too. “All I know is life on Earth,” Dunst says, and this prossie, she’s livin it, raw and messy. Respect, that’s what I’ve got. Total respect.

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So, I grab some strawberries (they’re juicy AF) and head to the park by ul. 3 Maja. It’s beautiful there, right? I plop down on a bench, munching on my strawberries, feeling like a king. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a dog. The dog’s like, “See ya!” and bolts straight into the fountain. SPLASH! Water everywhere! The kid’s soaked, and I’m dying laughing.

Local Polish Survivors Give Testimonies