Rowery elektryczne Bolt - kilka myśli

Plusy Przyspieszenie niesamowite. Bardzo szybko rusza. Przydatne w sytuacjach miejskich, ale trzeba uważać np. przy pieszych. Geometria ramy (jak na rower miejski) wygodna. Zwłaszcza, że elektryczny, to nie trzeba mocno pedałować. Świetny uchwyt na telefon, mojego niedużego iPhone’a trzymał świetnie. Do tego ładowanie bezprzewodowe. Ameryka. Minusy Cena. No jednak 50gr/minutę to nie mało. Hulajnoga za tyle samo a nie trzeba ruszać nogami. Brak jakiejkolwiek amortyzacji. Na dowolnym krawężniku podrzuca całym rowerem.

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I don't wanna win

Hey Lord, You know I’m tired Hey Lord, You know I’m tired Hey Lord, You know I’m tired of tears Hey Lord, just cut me loose Hey Lord, You know I’m fighting Hey Lord, You know I’m fighting I’m sure this world is done with me Hey Lord, You know it’s true Now the tide is rolling in I don’t wanna win Let it take me, let it take me

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Wojna

NSDAP zostało założone 24 lutego 1920 roku. Prawda jest taka, że ja o wojnie gówno wiem. Dziadkowie urodzeni w latach 1951-57. Pradziadek zmarł w 2013 roku. Nie rozmawiałem z nim o wojnie. W mojej osobistej, rodzinnej prawdzie historycznej nie istnieje coś takiego jak wojna. Istnieją represje, bieda, głód, choroby, tragedie. Ale nie wojna. Gówno wiem. Niech to będzie wstęp do tego tekstu. — Najgorszy w wojnie jest ten obrzydliwy proces odczłowieczania.

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The Holdouts

The rocks have been here for ten thousand years. Never moved away, never came back. Permanently, in the same place. They have witnessed animals long extinct. They have seen our ancestors settle down, wage wars, move away. There is literally nothing more permanent than the rocks. When I think about the rocks, a sudden peace embarks on me. In our world, everything is so very transient. Everything that makes us; our hopes, emotions, memories.

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Dirt

We seem to carry a lot of weight these days. Stress, anxiety, pressure. Both internal and external. All that stuff accumulates. Little by little, piece by piece, fills us up, like a tank. But, at a certain point, we can’t contain it any longer. It boils over. Spills like an overcooked soup. A nasty soup of anger, confusion, and tiredness. It seems being part of civilization, among all of its benefits, also bears a huge burden.

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Turns

There’s no direct path. Never was, nor will be. It’s always zig-zaggy, meandering, taking turns. Sometimes, it feels like you’re going backwards. All that footwork is progress. Every step moves us forward along the path of life. Even if it’s all unclear and muddy. So the best thing to do is to not get discouraged. To consistently continue pursuing this confused path like a mad man. To live; eventfully, gracefully.


Focus

Focus is a skill. A virtue. Something we can learn, but also loose. It’s an elusive feeling. We might feel focused for months, years, but one day – we might realize we’ve been focusing on the wrong thing all that time. No focus – no results. Without any sort of direction, topic, theme, it’s almost impossible to achieve, to create anything. Our mind is wonderfully curious, yet it needs a sort of filter to tame that curiosity.

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Groupthink

Originally published as part of my daily writing challenge on March 18, 2021. 669 One of the most dangerous phenomenons of our society, in my opinion, is groupthink. It has been, sadly, part of what it means to be human for ages. Our desire for being in agreement with our peers, to hold opinions shared by those who we care about, often tramples our individual reason, our personal lucidity. What worries me is how our increasing reliance on labels is magnifying the strength and occurrence of groupthink tendencies.

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Third Time’s A Charm

As the new year approaches, I’m excited to present you another photograph from my yearly “Man In the Internet” series, titled “Third Time’s A Charm”. “Man In the Internet” is my longest-running series, starting all the way back in 2017. These photographs served as my public profile photos all over the web. A long time ago I decided to not share my face online, and these artworks served perfectly as a substitute.

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Nie czas umierać

Czwartkowy spacer wzdłuż plant nie byłby w żaden sposób wyjątkowy, gdyby nie zdecydowanie częstsze dźwięki syren karetek pogotowia. Rok temu, w październiku, było tak samo. Karetka za karetką. Tutaj S-ka, tutaj P. Dwie przecznice dalej myka T. Zwykły spacer, z niezwykłym akompaniamentem. Znowu - umiera nas więcej niż powinno. Znowu - SORy pękają w szwach. Znowu - wirus sieje spustoszenie. Tym razem jednak na zewnątrz, poza tym dzielnym, aczkolwiek nędznym światem chorowania i umierania, życie toczy się po staremu.

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