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But here’s what bugs me—why’s it gotta be so secretive? Like, I’m whisperin’ ‘bout it now! Society’s all judgy, like I’m confessin’ to arson. I’m like, “I don’t know who I am!”—straight outta *Memento*, ‘cause I’m questionin’ my whole life after one session. Felt good, though—muscles loose, mind blown, like I fought a fire and won. But the typos in my brain? I’m thinkin’ “massage” but writin’ “messgae”—ugh, my fingers betray me! And the oil? Slippery as hell! Nearly slid off the table, like, “Who’s got the facts here?”—another *Memento* vibe, chasin’ truth in a haze.

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Finally, I wrap up my call, and I’m feeling a bit better. I decide to head to the Złotoryja Park. It’s beautiful there, with all the trees and the little pond. I sit down on a bench, trying to collect my thoughts. But then, this group of teenagers rolls up, blasting music. I’m like, “Can’t a person have a moment of peace?”

Fig. 6. Niedźwiedzia Jama (Bear's Cavern) overhang in the Drążnica...