I woke up thinking about — guess — Lipnica. More specifically — for a moment I was absolutely sure of one thing. “I must go back,” I thought. “The decision is made: I’ll go back for one year at least. I’ll go back, help Halina, Kasia, Krystyna, et. al. though their final year at the liceum. And if I like it, I’ll stay. Maybe sign a four or five year contract in exchange for paying off some portion of my student loan. Something like that.” I smacked the pillow beside me and said aloud, “I think the decision is made. I think I’ll go back.” And for a brief moment, it was as clear and simple as that.

I’m listening to The Ghost of Tom Joad and feeling something like the characters in those songs — someone who’s lost something. Someone adrift. “It’s just dry lightning. And you on my mind.” I don’t have a person on my mind — and that’s part of the problem — but instead I’ve got a place. No, that’s not right. I do have people on my mind. Students, friends — most of my friends, in fact.

After transcribing some of my “journal” from my LW trip into last month’s WP version, I’m now listening to Beethoven’s Pastorale Symphony — on of my favorites, of course. The problem is that even this brings comparison of life in LW to life here. This incredible symphony is accompanied by the sound of passing cars, trucks, and busses. Not exactly conducive to fully enjoying it. In LW the only interruptions I might have would come from someone upstairs — and even that wasn’t constant. The damn cars going by our apartment — and, living on the front side, there’s no place in the apartment to escape it — is a constant annoyance.

I remember sitting on the bed in LW just before going to sleep, and realizing that as I sat there I didn’t hear a single sound. Nothing.

I still hate it here. I still want to go back. And I think I will for the rest of my life.