Nic_dwa_razy_w_szymborska [ FHD ]

He realized he had been treated his life like a movie he was trying to rewind, rather than a performance happening in real-time. He took a sip of his coffee. It was hotter than usual, and the wind had a sharp, citrusy scent he hadn't noticed before. It wasn't the peace of that old summer afternoon, but it was a new kind of quiet—a sharp, waking clarity.

The woman smiled. "Why would you want a copy? A copy is just a ghost. If today were exactly like yesterday, you wouldn't actually be living today—you’d just be remembering it." nic_dwa_razy_w_szymborska

One evening, an old woman sat on the bench beside him. She was humming a melody that sounded vaguely familiar—a song by that set Szymborska’s poem to music. He realized he had been treated his life

"It’s different today," she said, nodding toward the water. It wasn't the peace of that old summer