It was simple, really.

He spent two and half weeks of the last month of the year divesting himself of the accumulated possessions of a half-century of possession accumulation.

Most was given away, much was thrown away, some was sold and what little remained (a few guitars, a few books, a two laptops and assorted notes about life, the universe and everything) was wrapped, boxed and shipped to Poland.

Two days before that Christmas Eve, he too set off for Kraków.

But it wasn't because he had grown weary of living among sheep who would rather follow the shepherd than actually do something risky, like think.

It wasn't because he could scarcely bear being conspicuous for his lack of obesity.

It wasn't because the full bounty of 'homegrown' vegetables -- for all its variety in colour, shape and per-pound price -- had finally achieved complete homogeneity of flavour.

It wasn't even because he could not in good conscience be seen as symbol, representative, endorser or constituent part of the most self-aggrandising, least aware, most aggressive, least tolerant, most domineering, least interesting and possibly most dangerous society ever to inhabit a significant portion of Earth's surface.

It wasn't for any of those reasons.

Oh. Wait. Yes, it was.

((133-70)/6)4
[email protected]

...now residing happily in an attic flat in Kraków


with an almost-view of the Wawel Castle.