I had grandparents who lived in Sopot and I utilized to spend quite a few summers there. Grandma was lovely, I played quite a few puzzle games with her, but she had any beautiful harsh rules about the spoken language. For example, we could not usage the word “smoke” as besides vulgar.
As a kid I had to usage gutter language in the yard and field, but at home I never utilized any word for "k" or "p". Or anyone else in my family.
When I was 14, my grandma left and Grandpa lived with my uncle and his household in Bydgoszcz. From there Grandpa went for a period to the sanatorium in Polanica. Turns out there's no 1 in the full household to bring Grandpa, and I was sent to do it. I was 17 at the time.
I imagined that in the sanatorium people heal, read books, discuss theatre and exhibitions, reflect on the origin of moral principles.
I was wrong! I found Grandpa surrounded by respective women 30 years younger than him, drinking wine, and singing:
"One female put the another female in p...zda rake. Baba screams, and the styling in p.. And the chachares live, drink booze with us!”
I've never seen Grandpa this happy before or after.
Okay, what does that gotta do with the Nigger's denomination?
It's just that I remember my journey to the Pole in truly depressing situations.
Michał Leszczyński
