Żyjemy w świecie zmian, gdzie społeczeństwo wolnego czasu zmieniło się w społeczeństwo konsumpcji i rozmytych wartości. Napawamy się "tu i teraz" nie patrząc na to, co jest dalej oraz nie mając szacunku dla tego, co już było. Toksyny są dla nas żeby zapomnieć.
Dzień dobry drogi czytelniku. Poniedziałek wita wszystkich Polaków nieprzyjemnym wiatrem, szarówką i wysokim ciśnieniem. Już niebawem zmiana czasu, bardzo dziwny wymysł ku oszczędzaniu energii, która dodatkowo zdemoluje co poniektórym zegar biologiczny. A mi urwało głowę, to już chyba kolejny raz w tym roku.
Ciężko chodzić tak bez głowy, szczególnie, jeżeli trzeba się zaprezentować wyborcom, zjeść rodzinny obiad, czy nawet zrobić głupie zakupy. Nikt nie zobaczy uśmiechu ani grymasu, a co najgorsze nikomu nie powiem "dzień dobry" oraz "jak się masz". Urwanie głowy ma też swoje dobre strony. Nikt nie napluje Ci w twarz i nie powie, że "niewyraźnie wyglądasz" - po prostu nie będzie miał ku temu możliwości, bo jest urwanie głowy i tyle. Bez głowy nie dostanę także w gębę od nieprzychylnych ludzi. No i ona też mnie nie pocałuje w policzek, bo policzek urwany z całą głową, a ja nie zarumienię się wstydliwie, bo jak. Urwanie głowy sprawia, że nie mam czasu na troski codzienne, małe smutki i te większe także. Bo jak tu się nad wszystkim rozczulać, skoro największym problemem jest ów urwanie głowy i cała otoczka z tym związana. Myślałem w zasadzie, że jeżeli wszystko mi się uda wziąć na przysłowiową klatę, to jakoś to poukładam, poszufladkuję, zdobędę uznanie bliskich, którzy powiedzą "ten to potrafi sobie wszystko zorganizować" i tak dalej. A tu niespodzianka nieprzyjemna, nadmiar obowiązków urwał mi głowę, choć funkcjonuję i mam się dobrze (dziękuję, że pytasz). Ba, nie muszę się teraz nawet martwić się o to czy mam dobrą fryzurę i czy do twarzy będzie mi w jakiejś czapce. Tylko tak jakby czegoś mi brakuje. Bo zapominam jeść, bo nie pamiętam, że trzeba szczotkować zęby, że wypadałoby przeczytać jakąś książkę, czy obejrzeć chociaż jakiś serial, co wszyscy, żeby z ów wszystkimi było o czym porozmawiać. Wszystko jednak niemożliwe... Bo jak, skoro mam urwanie głowy? No i na koniec, warto zaakcentować moje słowa jakimś cytatem. Niech to będzie zatem zbitka słów sprzed czasów utraty tego ważnego organu. Dajmy na to, że będzie to Piłsudski, który tak oto pokrzepiająco zwracał się do rannych żołnierzy: "Czego krzyczysz… co noga? A tamtemu głowę urwało i nie krzyczy, a ty o takie głupstwo." I tym dziwnym akcentem rozpoczynam drogi czytelniku nasz poniedziałek 20 października. A mi urwało głowę, to już chyba kolejny raz w tym roku.
Witaj drogi czytelniku. Po wielu perypetiach związanych z brakiem czasu i natłokiem obowiązków powracam z ciekawą informacją. Otóż autor niniejszego bloga zamierza wystartować w wyborach samorządowych. Ta informacja nie jest kierowana tylko i wyłącznie do mieszkańców Pruszkowa, a dokładniej okręgu wyborczego nr 9, z którego startuje. To informacja dla mieszkańców wszystkich miast w Polsce!
Wybory samorządowe to najważniejsze wybory spośród pozostałych elekcji. Są one "najbliżej nas", bo w nowej ordynacji w okręgach jednomandatowych wybieramy kandydata, który będzie reprezentował nasz region (np. osiedle). W tej ordynacji funkcjonuje mechanizm "pierwszy na mecie" czyli przechodzi tylko jedna osoba spośród wszystkich zmagających się o funkcję w okręgu. 16 listopada tego roku wybierzemy skład Rady Miasta, Rady Powiatu, Sejmiku Wojewódzkiego oraz wójtów, burmistrzów i prezydentów naszych miejscowości. Moim zdaniem w większości przypadków są to funkcje o większym znaczeniu dla społeczności lokalnej niż cały te, które sprawuje Sejm i Senat. Dwie ostatnie instytucje nie są bowiem "tak blisko" nas, jak lokalni radni czy nawet reprezentanci władzy wykonawczej (prezydent, burmistrz i wójt). Startuję z bezpartyjnego Komitetu Wyborczego Wyborców Pruszków 2.0. Stawiamy na młodych ludzi (średnia wieku wynosi u nas 25,5 lat) i nowoczesne pomysły związane ze zmianą miasta na bardziej otwarte, przyjazne mieszkańcom. Beż żadnej kiełbasy wyborczej, oferujemy tylko to co jest realne do wykonania i co będziemy się starali wykonać gdy zostaniemy wybrani. Jeżeli przegramy, cóż, bywa będziemy nadal działali jako społecznicy i spróbujemy za 4 lata.
Ciekawi cię nasz program, kto wchodzi w skład komitetu i co zamierzamy zrobić? Odwiedź proszę drogi czytelniku stronę Pruszków 2.0 oraz nasz profil na Facebook'u. Nie powinieneś się zawieść. I na koniec bezpośredni przekaz: rusz swoją mniej lub bardziej zgrabną pupę i idź na wybory! To niezwykle ważne w ramach realizowania "polityki molekularnej", tej, która dzieje się tu i teraz, najbliżej ciebie.
Małego Mateusza zjadają toksyny. Dzieciak ma 4 lata i jak na razie nie zanosi się, żeby dotrwał do osiemnastki. To bardzo, bardzo przykre, że jakiś genetyczny, wypaczony demon drzemie w każdym z nas i uaktywnia się nie wiadomo kiedy. Niektórych zabiera zbyt wcześnie, niektórych później, za wszystkimi tęsknimy. Mateusz Ziółkowski mieszka w Tarnowie Podgórnym jest powoli trawiony przez bardzo złośliwą i nieuleczalną chorobę. Najprawdopodobniej niedługo opuści nasz ziemski padół, choć mam nadzieję, że będzie walczył dzielnie i wyrwie śmierci jeszcze wiele miesięcy (a może nawet lat?). Jest jednak coś co może zrobić dla niego każdy, coś co jest trudniejsze od kliknięcia "lajka", a prostsze od wpłacaniu sumy na konto bankowe. Wystarczy wysłać list. Malec cieszy się niezmiernie, kiedy dostaje listy. Pamiętam dobrze, że sam jak byłem mały każda korespondencja sprawiała mi ogromną satysfakcję. Gdy już nauczyłem się pisać, zapełniałem strony zeszytów nierealnymi historiami o wszystkim i niczym, nie wspominając już o maszynie do pisania mojego dziadka, która skradła mi wiele godzin. Czemu zatem nie wnieść odrobiny radości w kruchym życiu Mateusza? Kiedy ostatnio wysłałeś jakiś list drogi czytelniku? Ja pół roku temu, jednak nie doszedł ze względu na błąd poczty. Teraz wyślę kolejny, bo uwielbiam je pisać i wiedzieć, że robię to specjalnie dla kogoś, a ten ktoś na pewno ucieszy się z korespondencji bo będzie wiedział, ze druga osoba pisała (odręcznie!) do niego. To bardzo wyjątkowa forma komunikacji. Jednak uwielbiam ją i z chęcią wyślę list do malca. Ty też możesz drogi czytelniku. Mateusz Ziółkowski Lusowo ul.Poznanska 8, 62-080 Tarnowo Podgórne
My story
starts in my hometown Pruszków, but particular events that happened next have
no connection with this shifty and infamous city.
I wake up. I
haven’t been sleeping well. Earlier (previous day) during some party where I
was singing and drinking few people was forcing me to stay. With no success.
More than thirty hours of my journey won with the plan of “spontaneous”
drinking. I do everything on the last moment, forget to put into my bag a lot
of more or less important things. Nevermind, if only I could get to this unknown
Turkish city in one piece. Direction – Muş.
In my short after-party dream I have nightmares, then
I can’t woke up at all. Psychosis of waking up too early (just before a clock
alarm) mode on. I sleep
3 hours. I get up (but it’s rather like falling out of bed) and perform routine
tasks in slow motion. Then I run to WKD station, because obviously I leave my
apartment to late and I have to go through the whole town across. On the way I
meet survivors from Saturday as well as Sunday’s lunatics who decided to
desecrate the weekend by getting up at dawn.
At the
beginning of the trip I’m already drenched in sweat and more tired than after PE
lessons in primary school. My companion – Pitter - runs to the station at the
last moment, practically with the train. We get inside and slowly along with
people with crazy eyes glide to the end of the route - Warsaw Central Station.
From Młociny
Metro Station we catch Polish Bus to Berlin. 9 hours trip descends fast. On-site
we visit the Bundestag doing the rounds, and more photos to fill our phones
memory. We look for non-restaurant place to eat, drink beer and smoke fags. We
have hundreds of ideas for our free time. Brandenburg Gate hasn’t change since
I last saw it years ago. We get on some subway station, which name I don’t
remember. There's a strange view - a pale junkie try to sell daily tickets to
people that someone threw before their expiration date. It turns out that he’s from
Poland. Great. In the subway I ask a young, quite pretty German woman about
some bullshit connected with transport (smart talk mode on). She explains
everything nicely and answer my question related to the penalty of 600 euros (I
saw the warning sticker on window) for a painting on subway cars.
Near
Brandenburg gate just ended some large demonstration or assembly. I see a lot
of Jews, some Black people and a few groups of Asians, everyone busy - true
multiculturalism. Berlin draws us slowly. In the evening I fall out of the strength
and I’m close to complete exhaustion. However, I’m a traveler so there’s no
impassable route to get through or obstacle to overcome. After sightseeing,
drinking a few beers and eating kebab, we catch a bus which picks our tortured
ass to the airport. We still have about a quarter of the day to the arrival -
it's time to make up at least a few hours of sleep.
We try to
lay on not-so-comfortable chairs. Several people residing at the terminal is already
asleep cradled in some clothes. Next to me and Piotr wanders some Japanese not
knowing whether she should go to sleep or wait like ninja until her time comes.
In the toilet, I do not know why, I buy a disposable toothbrush that does not
require toothpaste or even touching hands - to brush your teeth you need only to
move your jaw. Interesting device. According to sleeping at the terminal, I try
to lay safely and conveniently, but I failed. In the end, my body gives up and
I fall into lethargy and thoughts are leaving me away. Every moment I wake up,
and during my awake I see that Asian girl finally gave up and is sleeping
curled up next to me.
After a few
hours of semi-sleep we get up and go to the gates. I pack my international soul
and get on a plane. The direction - Istanbul. On the plane, I watch the movie
"Maleficent" with Angelina Jolie. Jolie is amazing, she reminds me of a character who haunted me
in my dreams when I was a kid. Next to me sits a Black gentleman, whose gold
signet rings and expensive watch distract my attention from focusing on the
film. He has problems handling the remote to control of TV built-in in the
headrest. I help him, than he sincerely thank me and smile showing two rows of white
teeth. I’m a little bit afraid of him.
We land in
Istanbul, where in a few hours we visit a piece of the city (no more than 3 or
4 stops by metro from the airport). Istanbul is very crowded, the people in the
subway jostle and don’t apply the rules adopted widely even in our “extremely
extensive” metro line in Warsaw. In the terminal waiting room, my eyes stop on
two pretty girls who speak Italian. As it turns out, these girls will play an
important part in our stay in Muş. After taking some pictures, complain about
the chaos and stench of the city we are packed in the next plane, which takes
us to Muş - Turkish city near the border with Syria, Iran and Iraq.
We land
safely at a small airport. The terminal is about the size of a supermarket and
the surrounding views are no different from those who can experience near Kabul
or Baghdad.
Muş is
quite big, conservative city where alcohol costs a fortune, many women go in
burqas and chadors (although during my stay I met a lot of incredibly charming
"uncovered" Turkish women) people are nice and still ask you “where
are you from” and “what’s your name” - sometimes it’s the only phrase they can
say in English. Wherever you do not show they are giving you strong tea (çay).
What I consider funny, when together with Piotrek we were at a clothing store
looking for “unique” souvenirs, salesman took the time to make us this
incredibly popular tea.
I have to
say, dear reader, that my person in Muş was something like a the local
attractions. Why? Certainly not because of the color of my hair or clothes (maybe
just a little bit), but mainly because the flash tunnels in my ears and
tattoos. These elements provided the curious gaze of people who viewed my ears
and hands – you know, increased talks (which of course I did not understand)
when I was just behind them. But I didn’t feel embarrassed, nay, even several
times encouraged by young Turks I sang Paktofonika and Molesta (Polish
old-school hip hop bands) songs. That was something!
And why have
we been there at all? The European Union has organized seminar "Promotion
of entrepreneurship a combat youth unemployment," which was in my opinion
very interesting and exciting, not only because of the program, but also (and
perhaps especially) because of people who participated it. During this seminar
I met a lot of people from different European countries: Greek, Estonian,
Italians, Spaniards, Czechs, Croats, Romanians, Portuguese, Turks (locals), and
of course Poles (Pitter and AJ). Most of the "national teams" were
made of young people who came to Muş for networking and exchange of experience
in this particular issue. Apart from me, Piotr and two Spaniards who came on
the second day, the whole group was consisted of females. Wonderfully, wasn’t
it? Unfortunately the rules of our hotel did not allow drinking and smoking in
the rooms and inviting girls. That was a pity but who'd I be if I did not break
any of these rules in the name of adventure and carpe diem motto?
The course
program held in the conference room in the hotel, as well as in several other
places in our building. However, due to limited perception of the reader to
focus on the details of the EU programs I will not bore anyone by writing widely
about our schedule.
Event worth
mentioning and strictly connected with our program was certainly a visit to a
local high school in Muş, where we had intended to obtain information about
the EU activities according to internship programs, practices abroad and work
experience. In school we were greeted very warmly (no need to mention that we
drank tea) and answered questions by teachers and high school staff about the
EU institutions and its help to this region. After talking with them I have to
admit that Turks has a long way when it comes to develop such mechanisms of
activation of young people that operate in the EU countries. But Turkish
economy is in great condition so maybe they don’t need accession at all.
Another
event worth mentioning was the flash mob in which young and older people from
different parts of Europe and Turkey danced and perform anti-cancer activities.
Everything during the oncology days.
Personally,
I liked the action in groups, where I had the opportunity to study the
differences and common features of the structure of unemployment in the
countries from which the participants came. I got the impression that we are
not so different in this field - we all feel aversion to nepotism, don’t want parents
to dictate our future and everyone feels quite uncertain about his future in
the labor market. I also found useful lessons of Turkish basis, after which I
could said "Hello", "Goodbye", "What's up?" or
"How much does it cost? “.
Two other
event will be unforgettable too - a visit in the clothes factory and an
international evening in local pub. During first, I had the opportunity to
observe how the process of production of clothing that goes to Decathlon stores
works. In a large production hall people were working tirelessly measuring,
cutting, sorting and folding clothing or finished products. We were as curious
of them as they were curious of us. What
I saw probably was no different from similar processes of production in Europe.
Regarding
to "International Evening", it’s a very funny story again. Because
during my preparations for trip I forgot to take leaflets, brochures and other
gadgets and materials about promoting Poland and any organizations wh
ich I work
for, we had to improvise. Piotr had only a bottle of Polish vodka, canned
herring in tomato sauce and pasztet. For this very “dignified image” of Polish
table we have added some bread (obviously not Polish) and the Turkish Pal Mal cigarettes
(without pack so no one guessed that they weren’t Polish). Our table presented
very poorly in comparison to surrounding lavish decoration and national dishes
of other countries prepared probably long before coming to Muş. Well, that's
how it goes but we haven’t lost the spirit. Furthermore, I must say that
everything except pasztet disappeared from our table in a few minutes. Vodka vanish
in an eye blink along with the bottle and generally our table was popular for
about 15 minutes!
During described
event we had to say something about our countries. Well, that was another
improvisation because none of us had prepared a speech, presentation or
anything. Besides, who in the middle of so exciting evening would remember all
this information about Poland? This kind of behavior probably lies in our
nature. When it was our turn to say something I took the microphone and told
the audience that I don’t have any presentation, because the history and culture
of Polish are too multifaceted to fit into a five-minute presentation so everyone
who gathered in room should visit our country just to feel Poland. Next, after
a short play in repeating difficult sentences in Polish („w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie” and so on), Pitter played video about Poland,
which supposed to be our presentation. Speakers sounded verses of the song
"We are Slavic" performed by Donatan & Cleo. Everyone was
surprised, astonished and a little bit overawed of what they saw (for example boobies).
I think that after this music video locals will remember us, right?
According
to events not covered by the program, I don’t even know where to start this
part of my story, because ee (I mean me and Pitter) used our stay in Muş in 300
percent. We walked around the mountains and hills which from the hotel window
seemed to be very distant, visited poor suburbia seeing tough living conditions
of some Turks, been a gun shop, where the owner did not speak a word of
English, but we managed to take some pictures of guns anyways (peace & love
mode off).We were blundering in local market where you could buy everything -
from onions trough counterfeit watches to guns and CD’s with Turkish music.
I have yet
to mention the visit to a local organization, where we sat together with Italian
girls, Turks, and our young and beauty coordinator from Portugal sipping beer and wine. I drank
alcohol thoughtfully staring at Elena. Our Turkish colleagues did fast massage,
which was supposed to help for the pain in back of some people (including me).
After all I thought that my head will drop out and shoulders and hands will
never work the same. So it was hard for me to say whether the treatment helped.
Anyway, that time we all were celebrating moment in distant lands, savoring
expensive and distasteful alcohol and having a magical time together.
With two
Italian girls that I’ve already mentioned above we broke all of the hotel
rules. Along with Pitter we not only disobey the rules, but we were also screwing
around somewhere outside the city where stray dogs (there were really a lot of
them) and sounds in the darkness caused deep fear in our charming female
companion.
If you ask
me, I think I will never forget meeting at night with Elena and a long
conversation that we had. It opened my eyes to many things and it was about…
I’ll keep it for myself dear reader. That girl turned on my mechanism, which
blew up completely a few days before arrival. I hope that I’ll meet her someday
and somehow.
I must also
write how during flesh mob we split off from the group with a few girls from
different countries and went ahead. We were climbing the slopes of the
mountains, passing the ruins of buildings, which sometimes appeared to be
inhabited. On the way we met a very friendly Turk who offered us a ride and
visiting his home for a dinner – that was amazing. We understood everything
because of Eliza, residents of Greece, who due to the Turkish minority in region
of her country mastered Turkish and during that trip she was our translator. According
to the proposal, due to the reluctance of some girls we had to refused and
later we moved on. But come on, just imagine this kind of behavior in your
country!
After few
minutes of walking we got to the mosque situated at the end of a winding path.
Near the temple kids were playing ball. Along with Pitter we joined them for a
while. When we got tired of contemplating local view we decided to come back.
Fortunately, we caught large taxi which arrived out of the blue just near
mosque. Driver played national music pulling us true atmosphere of this town
and after a while we happily reached the hotel.
I should
also mention about the expedition to the "Castle". It wasn’t a
building made of stone blocks and having towers and other features of the
castle - it was just a coffee shop located at the top of one of the many hills
in the area. The view from this place was breathtaking. One evening together
with Pitter we decided to get there using, let’s say, an unconventional way
(forget about the bus!). In the only store in town with alcohol we bought wine and
started walking the steep trail up the hill. Our dry throat could not wait any
longer, so in a halfway we decided to open one of the bottles. What was our
despair, when it turned out that the plug is not unscrewable! We sat like
primal humans, and using the key from the hotel and stone we tried to stick
cork inside. Cork was slowly going into the bottle, but when I was sure that we
succeed, the bottom of the bottle exploded, and the whole wine spilled on the
narrow road. Insanity and sadness pervaded our hearts. Finally we swallow this
bitter experience and climbed up the hill to meet our group.
Talking
about alcohol, there was a only one store with alcohol in whole Muş. It was
“Ekonomini” whit windows obscured by red foil and where all the alcohol beverages
were packed in a black bags. I felt like in the time of prohibition. And prices
... enough to say that the cheapest beer was for 2 EUR and wine for 7 EUR. During
our short stay we managed to empty the regiments of the cheapest wine and the
seller always greeted us with a smile sensing the improvement of his financial
situation. I will not forget a conversation with a Turkish girl, which in the
context of searching for pubs said to me and Piotr, that we are probably able
to withstand three days without drinking alkohol. We were both shocked, shocked
and confused, looked at each other and the only thing that brought out of our
mouth was empty laughter. You know, the Polish ailment.
In the
subject of promoting “Polish way of being” I think that in Muş we certainly
left our mark. Maybe it’s not something to be proud of, but we managed to learn
all the people the word "kurwa" and explained its use. In addition,
we explained our Portuguese organizer that "kurwa" is not beer. That
misunderstanding stemmed probably from situation when we were sitting in only
pub providing beer, and talking in Polish how great is drinking this gold
beverage. Of course using a lot of “kurwa”. Secondly, according to program
tasks "Polish representation" characterized by flexibility and
unusual approach to issues. During the training we were getting through exercises
without any stress or hesitation, having perfectly organized our free time (we
slept 4-5 hours a day but who cares).
"(not) under the bridge" - Tania (our young Portuguese supervisor) and me
And the
pride of the trip was the "Slavic squat" promoted and performed
wherever we could. The effects can be seen on Facebook fan page. Furthermore, we
supported local business not only because of the havoc that we have made at the
local liquor store, but also because of the use of local services and purchasing
local products. In this unusual place everything was "local" and the
manufacturer was often the seller. Just imagine no network of supermarkets and
junk food. Maybe that's why I enjoyed that place so much.
After a
week, which flew like a stone from a cliff, we have to leave. Muş and the
people living there surprised me incredibly as well as course participants
(especially Italians, who constantly called me and Pitter assholes, but I think
they really liked us). I hope that only the good memories remain in mind of
everyone who met us because the story which I wrote another chapter will have
many more parts and ending unknown. Inside I miss all those guys terribly and
regret that I had to come back. How about another adventure?
13 lat temu w Nowym Jorku Amerykanie budzili się, aby przywitać kolejny pracowity/leniwy/beznadziejny/piękny dzień w tętniącym życiem mieście. Niektórzy z tych, co szli do pracy w budynku World Trade Center na godzinę 8.00 byli zapewne mocno niewyspani. Szczęśliwcy zdążyli się jeszcze pożegnać z mężem/żoną i zjeść śniadanie, jeszcze inni przekręcali klucz w zamku myśląc o ciężkiej pracy i braku szczęścia wynikającym z wielu przyczyn. Nowojorczycy żyli tak, jakby miał być to kolejny dzień ich życia, ze wszystkimi rozterkami i radościami. George W. Bush usiadł na krześle w szkole Emma T. Booker w Sarasocie, aby przeczytać dzieciom bajkę "The Pet Goat".
Trochę wcześniej w odległym kraju mężczyźni z brodami ceniącymi legendy płynące z książki, którą każdy może inaczej interpretować ponad życie ludzkie (w szczególności życie "rozpustnego Zachodu") byli gotowi. Ten najbardziej nienawistny brodacz od wielu miesięcy czekał na tą chwilę, powolutku jak kleszcz obierał właściwy moment, żeby spaść z gałęzi prosto na głowę człowieka i wgryźć się głęboko w jego ciało zatruwając cały organizm wirusem. Usama ibn Ladin, syn miliardera z Arabii Saudyjskiej miał ogromne środki i wsparcie wszystkich religijnych ekstremistów z różnych państw, aby wbić sztylet w tętnice Stanów Zjednoczonych i zaprezentować swoją największą i najstraszniejszą broń - strach. Udało mu się to nad wyraz dobrze. Tuż po godzinie 8.00 zmienił się świat. Ludzie z różnych części świata (choć także i w samych państwach), od czasu, kiedy boeingi uderzyły w bliźniacze wieże, przestali sobie ufać na dobre. Po śmierci prawie 3000 osób i relacjonowaniu tragedii na żywo (wtedy wypromowana została polska stacja z niebieskim logiem) wojny stały się niesymetryczne, a państwom przyszło walczyć nie z armiami narodowymi, tylko rozproszonymi rzeszami fanatyków, którzy za nic mieli życie swoje i innych. Rozpoczęła się wojna z terroryzmem, która trwa do dzisiaj i trwać będzie do czasu końca historii, którą znamy i definiujemy.
W dobie odrodzenia się bestii w postaci państwa islamskiego (ISIS) świat stoi w niebezpieczeństwie. Nie jest to rojenie zmęczonego autora drogi czytelniku, tylko fakt, który trzeba brać pod uwagę w prognozowaniu przyszłościowym. Nikt nie powiedział, że nie będzie "9/11 bis", a nastąpić to może w mieście zupełnie innym niż Nowy Jork i z użyciem innych środków zniszczenia. Na dzień 11.09.2014 na świecie jest tyle chaosu co w moim życiu i tak samo nic nie jest pewne czy zagwarantowane. Współczesny terroryzm i cyberterroryzm to największe zagrożenia dla społeczeństw - szczególnie tych, którzy mają do stracenia więcej niż zamaskowani mordercy niedyskryminujący swoich celów. To wszystko odcina nas od działań terroryzmu o strukturze piramidalnej (lata 60 i 70). Dzisiaj w miejscu tragedii w chmury albo czyste niebo uderzą dwa słupy światła. Wszystko w celu uczczenia tragicznych wydarzeń i przypomnienia, że wolność i bezpieczeństwo nie jest zagwarantowane. Brodaty fanatyk zabity w odwecie za swoje czyny na pewno będzie miał swoich naśladowców, którzy będą stosować jeszcze bardziej okrutne metody, aby legitymizować swoją wypaczoną wizję świata. Toniemy. Jakże to możliwe?
