The absurdity of the judge’s order threw us back into our Kafkaesque reality.
That we could, as we do, live in the realm of eternal mirrors,
working our way at the same time through unmowed grasses.
Czesław Miłosz
When on December 13th, 1991—the tenth anniversary of martial law being declared in communist Poland to crush the political opposition—I stepped on the tarmac of John F. Kennedy’s International Airport in New York, leaving Poland forever, I promised myself to forget who I was for the first 25 years of my life. I didn’t want to be political anymore. There was too much pain in it, and too much pain in remembering the extent to which it affected the lives of everyone I knew.
Growing up in communist Poland, in a family opposed to the regime, was like watching and discussing open wounds with the understanding that nothing could be changed, but that opposition was necessary. In fact, my family subscribed to the belief that opposition was the only honorable way of life. No one believed that communism would fall, nevertheless, everyone persisted. It felt like a Kafkaesque asylum.
More here: https://lithub.com/dictator-at-the-podium-the-first-100-days-takes-me-back-25-years/
