So I’ve been waddling around Warsaw for the past week. As previously mentioned, I’m here for neither business nor pleasure, for a funeral is neither something to profit from nor derive happiness from.

What frightens me about life is not loss or change, it’s how quickly we get over them. Everything is so transient and we are so resilient, it invites the bleak sort of nihilism that is difficult to negotiate once it really takes hold.

But in the midst of death and the philosophical inquiries it provokes, we are surrounded by life that is strong and persistent. As a result of my coming to Warsaw, I’ve seen faces that I had previously declared long-gone, dead in their own way, now resurrected. I have brand new faces in my life. I’m even about to go to Carrefour to buy an eggplant for a few of those faces, with whom I have dinner plans in an old loft with wooden beams and a squeaky floor that gives me splinters.

And so we all carry on in our wooden lofts and with our eggplants, and light is somehow born out of darkness. Warsaw, too, makes me feel good. It’s a city that gives me a lot of hope for my future, full of people who have for me that same exact function.

The only way to make peace with a corrupted past and an unknown future, I suppose, is simply to just be in the present. Well, there’s that and also: hug everyone like they’re already gone.