Pandora Box

Time is a strange creature: it can go painfully slow, and it can fly by way too fast. There are stretches of time when nothing happens for days and sometimes twelve hours hold a week worth of events.

Morning was a usual swirl of mundane chores. After the boys went off to school, I sat down in search of information about an artist whose exhibition I plan to see. Before long it was noon and when I got up, my body in uncertain terms let me know that one can abuse it with lack of sleep and food only so far. I felt a sudden dizziness, desire to lie down and don’t move for eternity. Unfortunately, a parent - teacher conference was waiting, so I pour more coffee into myself and ran for the bus.

I have never tried to go to school by bus before, so nothing prepared me for a trap of an underground crosswalk, waiting at the end of the journey. You see, long ago, when I was a little girl, I had a terrifying encounter on the darkened staircase. It unceremoniously yanked me out of blessed ignorance regarding sexes and left me with perpetual fear of dark, secluded places and intolerance of anything tight around my neck. But here it was - a dark throat of a tunnel that I had to enter. I felt a familiar chill going down my spine and was ready to turn around in search for an easier route when an old lady appeared behind me and proceed forward without any hesitation. Breathing out a sign of relief I followed her steps.

Safely on the other side of the highway, I went along a path in general direction of the school. Soon I was standing on top of a hill, gazing down at it. The school was so close, 400 meters, no more, but a fence blocked my way. I felt like a fox in a famous fable – can see “the grapes” but cannot reach it. Taking a running leap was out of question, so I had to retrace my steps. My shortcut turned into unreasonably longish way. Good thing, I built in some extra time, otherwise I would have been late. The parent-teacher conference went very well, no unpleasant surprises there.

A gratifying surprise was waiting for me at home. My first official art review was published! It is nice to find an outlet for my obsession with local art scene.

That wasn’t the end of surprises – about six o’clock in the evening I found myself participating in the radio program. It was on the Radio for Immigrants, Hallo Hafnarfjörður, which broadcasts in Polish, Russian, Thai, and English. It is the fist time I have ever been inside the radio station, not mentioning being alive on air. It was informal and fun, but I sure am glad that I didn’t hear myself speaking. A rare person likes the way he sounds, and I am not an exception.

This is a Pandora box of a day, except most of the escaping things were delightful, instead of being morbid.