“To you, dear X”

“To you, dear X”


Five Letters and Five Drawings from the Loneliest Room


You know what, sometimes it seems to me we’re living in a world that we fabricate for ourselves. We decide what’s good and what isn’t, we draw maps of meanings for ourselves… And then, we spend our whole lives struggling with what we have invented for ourselves. The problem is that each of us has our own version of it, so people find it hard to understand each other.”


― Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead[i]


Letter no. 1





I said I can’t write about something I don’t believe in

And here I am, finding myself writing to you from scratch

From the deep, deep unknown pit

That you are in, too


I question the values of strict definitions that surround us as if we were prisoners of someone else’s mind

Don’t you think?

We all believe in definitions – oftentimes the ones that have been created for us

We just endure in alien interpretations of what we once called Reality

Desperately roving on in the search for fulfilment

Dear X,

We all err on the side of caution


In a moment like this, I question, like Roland Barthes, the unsettling human predisposition to judge, name and (last but not least) tame the world

He once said (perhaps)

“The incapacity to name is a good symptom of disturbance”[ii]



Letter no. 2




I couldn’t sleep.

I’ve been trying to understand what is wisdom

You would say – it does sound a little silly

But since we are all stuck here, maybe this is (in fact) the correct moment

The right historical situation

The geopolitical instant pause

I must say, however, I do feel a tiny bit worried

Look outside the window, it is so sunny, so welcoming

Let’s go outside!

Slavoj Žižek endlessly repeats:
We live in the era of science

Can anyone imagine anything more stupid than a virus?[iii]

Dear X,

We found each other

In this enormously weak human prohibition

But do you even exist?



Letter no. 3




Today I am ready to talk about it, you know

This demoniacal potential of what was once called


But before I will start outlining the potential of being ready for death

I will sing you a song

I have read an article on how to sing and breathe in order to cure the anxiety – would you like to listen to this?

You know, Dear X, we stand in this shuttering violence of convulsion that, to be sure, is wanting or being able to become integrated.[iv]

Our bodies are breaking up


Are you feeling sick?

I think I have nothing else to say right now

I will finish this essay with a list as follows:


  1. Existence together: true theatre
  2. Definitions: still an unknown, maybe should become an object of global criticism
  3. Body + metaphor: ?



Letter no. 4




I saw a man

I saw a cadaver



Letter no. 5




I would like to apologise, I haven’t eaten in a long time

I keep thinking about the idea of Togetherness

Understood in (perhaps) self-righteous method

We are stood in a mist, look around Dear X

Nearly 8000000000 encountering Planet Earth

Significance of our remainings is still under discussion


Dear X,

I can see a bridge outside the window

Proudly standing, almost judging

We get sick of being ourselves

We forget to look around

At the time of writing this

Your human imagination and vision is exploding


Isn’t it?






[i] Tokarczuk, O. (eng. trans. Antonia Lloyd-Jones). 2019. Fitzcarraldo Editions. ed. 1

[ii] Barthes, R. (eng. trans. Howard, R.). 1982. Camera Lucida. Hill & Wang. ed. 1

[iii] https://youtu.be/HabyJi66l0w

[iv] Kristeva J. 1941. Powers of Horror. An Essay on Abjection. Columbia University Press.