(From Warsaw): over breakfast

[Reflections on what happens when two worlds collide. Or: how does it feel to be the only one in a room of a dozen who knows everyone and where no one else knows more than half of the others? Or: when the author of Ocean hosts a party in her old family apartment, where her American friends meet all her closest Polish friends.]

I sweated that one.
Really? I didn’t.

You weren’t hosting.
No, I was sitting back and thinking that this was the perfect tableau: books piled high to the ceiling, mountains of food everyone, people exchanging stories.

Food piled high? I know, I probably wasn’t serving it in a fast enough way.
Such fascinating conversation! Didn’t you hear it?

I was thinking that maybe mixing different worlds is not the right thing to do.
Really? If I hadn’t been more tired, you would still find me there right now.

Honestly? I like that image…