oblivious to these trees for so long and only now did they dawn on me. black and dragging up to the sky, slowly and inevitably. resembling threads of black vermicelli, which loses its sound and weight in english.
in polish makaron [pasta] lies vocally so tightly close to maszkaron [an ugly deformed creature] and vibrates half-absurdly and half-sinisterly. wildly. silently pouring upwards. cutting the vision into comprehendible pieces. shadows directing your steps. your sense of perspective. the world tree - is it many now? thin-trunked and wicked?
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