Our Choices

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Out of the spotlight, with uneaten sausage, undrunk substances, and smoke in our lungs, which is no longer considered carcinogenic, we are sitting in the country and musing.

Although elections are easy to handle when it comes to drawing two intersecting lines with our hand (sadly, even this turns out to be too much for some people), elections in a wide sense are such will/power that some- times gets out of control.

How can we control such things as the fact that we are short, we live in Poland, and our left breast is bigger than the right one, our sex is on the side where we speak about sex as op- posed to the default, as it turns out? And how does it limit our choice at the start, when we are still young, but others give us toys some- one once decided we should play with. Also, someone once decided we should dress in a specific way, depending on dignity, which our mothers have to cram our head with from childhood in fear of ostracism like ‘your boy is walking with pointed toes, Elisabeth, this is highly inappropriate.’

And how many other millions of factors befall us while we live – disgraceful, unaware, and, generally, without a choice.

Even though one may argue that we do have a choice, as a matter of law, because nobody can forbid us to be a dubbing actor in German pornographic films and have four IVF children, be in an open, polyamorous, homosexual relationship with six women, two men, and a few persons in the spectrum in between the two, but, realistically speaking, we will rather choose school, studies, a job, marriage, a child, another child, retirement, and sleep. In between, we will get drunk a few times, try drugs a few times, fall out, cheat, and consider our children to be traitors to the idea which we have never had.

Well, that is life. How difficult it is to even choose a job when we live in the capital and there are plenty of examples; how difficult it must be to choose anything to a person who does not have any examples and lives some- where in between cities, forests, in a little hut built on a hen’s foot, in a place where not being an alcoholic is a social success. Be more hum- ble, brothers and sisters

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