Thankee sir, and thank all of you for your encouragement. I haven't got an urbancard yet, and so I've been flat-footing it everywhere the last two days. Today I decided to put the weather and my new buty
to good use, and hoofed it 4.5 km to the IKEA in Bielany. It was easier getting there than getting back, since I was loaded to bear with a shower curtain rod, a spice rack, a salt and pepper shaker set, and a lidded trashcan. The temperature was so warm coming back, that I had to take off my jacket and tie it around my waste, exposing this t-shirt:
So, yeah, I got some looks. Anyways, I took a slightly different route home than I did coming, and ended up on Buraczana, where I found myself in front of a very old gray apartment building, empty but for the pigeons poking their heads from the shattered uppermost windows. The balcony was in such disrepair, it was buttressed by wood that looked rather past its prime, itself. The street number was 20 or something, but you could still see 129 in the cement above the door, hearkening back to an earlier, more German occupancy. All along the southern side of the house was riddled with odd pock marks, that I couldn't discern the meaning of, until it hit me: bullet holes. The house had been shot by several calibers of ammunition, and a long time ago, at that. The things you find when you take an odd way home, huh?