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Marek Zulawski passed away on March 30th, 1985, a whopping 38 years ago.
A few years ago, I translated his thoughts about death from his autobiography. Nearly 70 at the time, he was ruminating on his own mortality after attending a friend’s funeral:
I kiss whitewashed faces. Some belong to women I had loved. When was that? Perhaps a thousand years ago. I don’t want to remember – I don’t want to reminisce.
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I see a Polish athlete, once splendid in days of yore, now hobbling on crutches through fresh clay – a man from another epoch.