Fifth Journey Day 54: Lint Collected in the Mind

Date: July 1, 2025
Location: Wrocław, Poland

There's something about Wrocław that feels like theater. The buildings look like they're posing, even when the sky is covered with clouds. And the river looks like it's pulling the sky into itself with pride. I spent the afternoon crossing between small islands, slowly drifting toward Ostrów Tumski. The name sounds heavy, but the place itself felt weightless. Green, open, and calm. I sat on a bench beneath an old iron lamppost that must have been lit with gas at some point. It looked worn, but not tired. The cobbles under my feet felt warm from the sun, even though the sky was covered with clouds.

I didn't take any notes. I wrote some short pieces of a story, but I didn't write anything in a specific order. Since I arrived, I noticed a few things. I smelled the faint scent of roasted nuts near the cathedral. I saw a girl pulling her braid as she leaned over a bridge. I also noticed the pale green of oxidized copper peeking through a statue's base. It was like collecting lint, these soft, unnoticed things. But it made me feel better. It made the city feel less like a performance and more like something alive.

I've been thinking lately about how I often find myself drawn to the edges — the physical and emotional ones. I'm not talking about feeling lonely, but that's part of it. There's more space for silence at the edges. Wroclaw's islands made me feel that way today. It's not overly dramatic or emotionally intense. I just wanted to relax and be soft for a bit.

The pigeons here are bolder than I expected. One almost landed on my notebook. I let it go. It changed its mind, but the moment stayed.

Tomorrow, I think I'll let the city lead. No intentions. It's just movement, weather, and whatever else is there to be seen.