"Mothers belong to Titans of another order, and at the end of their work there is no freedom. A parent can't indulge in fantasies about humanity. My parent feels guilty. I was always worried about giving 1 person, the narrowness of perspective. It was more worrying than I'd always gotten into that part.
Or is adulthood the ability to focus on one? possibly the small prophet taking on the fears of everyone he might think of is just a naively impossible figure. Provincial utopia of the savior, who knows...”
On my mother's day, I finished reading the memouary of Eliza Kącka. I got hit in the hammock. "Yesterday you were angry at the green" (Karakter Publishing) is simply a book about increasing up and about a non-standard maternal experience, masterful and diabolically precise autoanalysis, in which behind the manifestations of the common experiences of parent and daughter gushes the language, hung out of toil, but besides giving a clear message to supporters of "rational motherhood" and social rituals (auto)tresura. Showing the tongue is like putting your mediate finger out. And good, they deserve it!
The protagonists of “Yesterday you were angry at the green” are Ruda and Penguin – a two-man tribe that has been practicing in the hard art of the community for eighteen years.
Milka, a tiny priestess, a samurai, a Masaika, curiosity – Ruda has many names. Eliza is not only a Penguin, she is besides a Guardian: “still on the watch, with a rotating eye.” In the “Mother Protection Agency” she does 2 jobs, due to the fact that it's not just about cushioning meetings with the world. Worse than a broken knee and a crumpled lollipop are the situations erstwhile the planet "comes besides close". In the book, the diagnosis was silenced, but between the lines (and besides straight on the Internet) you can read: autism. The first word spoken by Ruda was “there”, “a word cast from another orbit into space”.
Both fell into a rabbit hole. On the 1 hand – routine, repetitive behaviour and fear of change (the parent will jump with her daughter in white fields of pedestrian crossing). On the another hand, life with a bomb bomb ready to explode, regular exercises with crisis intervention and explanation (commix: 2 children, a rat in a cap and trees fight against mines), endless (auto) analysis. Metaphysical puzzles, due to the fact that what to do with the phrase “Yesterday you were angry with green”, the message “The sky is funny, pretending to be an animal” or the question “Does your key open or just close?” It's peripatetic, "outbound wisdom, outstretched," "Zigzagous, forest divisions." regular philosophy: “[K]This here is simply a captive sitting in the dark and tracking through the wall of cave shadows? A prisoner chained to his position and this unaware?”
The corner is placed in a position of outcast – and it is not only that she is the parent of a “other” kid (broken into respective passages the list of “things she heard as a mother” raises the pressure: “old maiden with a child, yet with problems”, "If you had a man, then the kid wouldn't have problems," "Where were you erstwhile you were a year old? Then we had to be diagnosed, “Do not terrorize us with hypersensitivity”, “I mostly support integration, but with people of the same level”). More than that, in her experiences and any of her daughter’s behaviors, she finds herself, as if their prospects were overlapping. He's planting events from Rudy's life in his own childhood. That's how it is in this passage:
"The head seen under the light surrounded an ore cloud, as gentle as a cloud of isolated cordon fibres. I remember playing with the cordon or mulin threads for single fibers. I rub them in my fingers to make them almost transparent, cotton candy hair. The copper crown from the air and children's fluff reminded me of the ornamentation of rag dolls with a debilitating hairpin in yarn in ZPT lessons.”
"My head has changed very much under the authority of Red", writes Kącka. possibly that's why telling about your daughter is simply a “cross memory exercise.” Narration meanders around scenes: an unexpected alliance with a smiling dog, a walk on the balcony, a hug to the tree, meetings with an overactive boy, moving to Warsaw. It seduces the sensibility of descriptions, the unusualness of associations. I've always been annoyed by the protective depiction of the burden as a gift, but in the case of Kącka, I think that's the case.
“ Yesterday you were angry with green” is simply a book written for your parent and for your daughter.
"To this day, I do not know where this sharpened memory of the situational item came from, but possibly it was due to the fact that all calm, all prolonged consent to existence I took as a holiday, that is, a memorial medium. hard experiences you wipe or thicken. I was bold. And anyway, I tried to fix everything so that she could scope inside me 1 day for a map of the planet she was walking through. possibly 1 day she will make it and see that she has a future – having a past," writes the author.
It's a large memorial. On my shelf it will be adjacent to Agnieszka Szpiła's “Son, you are a cat” by Katarzyna Michalczak.
