And Sometimes it Hits You

Epiphanies are not always that profound. I think if you ask the Catholic Church or James Joyce, epiphanies are supposed to be life changing. But something can hit you and when you tell someone else about that something, it sounds retarded. Mine goes like this… Mar and I were walking around the Old Town of Gdańsk. It was our first day in Poland. And then it hit me… everything here is Polish. Deep, huh? K., lemme explain. All things Polish have been pretty localised for me. Roncesvalles, Toronto, the Polish Church in Ottawa, family gatherings, a babcia’s house, my parents talking aloud about something they want to keep hidden from my sister and me—these are the times I’ve heard Polish. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by that crazy consonant heavy language. The same babble is coming from everyone and it’s as familiar as it is incomprehensible. For all I know, they are discussing my behaviour and whether it merits a trip to the movies this weekend. Either that or it’s pierogi for dinner tonight.

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