Witold's Blog

Francis Robicsek, the Renaissance Man.

He was Hungarian. His name, however, like the name of the city he was born, Miskolc, was Slavic. He came from the part of Eastern Europe which for a long time was dominated culturally and politically by the Austrians, and the borders between the nations were in constant flux. He grew up in a country

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Alan Heathcock’s 27 Tenets of writing fiction

This post was written on a Twitter request by people looking for this excellent writing advice given by an American fiction writer Alan Heathcock. It is re-posted as-is, preserving the original formatting and syntax. 1. Make a unique character, with a highly specific flaw that puts into question their ability to clearly interpret the world.

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Polish violin players

At the height of his career, Paganini was asked who is the best violin player of them all. “I don’t know who’s the best,” he answered with his natural modesty, “but the second-best is Karol Lipiński. There were many superb Polish violinists. Many of them were born when Poland was not on the maps of

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Memories

I love memories. I love good memories. I also love the bad ones, although not as much. They all are parts of my life. I’ve lived in many towns and cities on both continents and cherish visiting all the old places. And I often surprise myself knowing how many people from my past live all

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Struggles for Poland

8o years ago our neighbors decided to change the course of Polish history. Nazis invaded us from the West and Soviets from the East. Once again, as it did through the centuries, our country had to defend its identity, culture, heritage and its territory. The brutality of the invading forces was unspeakable and the extermination

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A big announcement. Obwieszczenie

Z niesłychaną dumą zawiadamiam moich przyjaciół i czytelników, że moja strona internetowa witoldniesluchowski.com jest teraz do czytania w języku polskim. Blogi będą przetłumaczone w następnej kolejności. To my friends and readers: My website witoldniesluchowski.com is now available in Polish version. Blogs will be translated later.

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Eulogies

There was a time during my tenure as a Chief of Staff when quite a few of our doctors died. Attending the funerals wasn’t that uncommon, but that time seemed like more than usual. I attended most of them, not ex officio, but because they were my friends. The ceremonies differed in the religion, style,

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Dark times, Coming Home

Those were the dreadful times. They were trying times. Polish people were put in the positions, where there were no good solutions. Any bad choice, and you ended up with a bullet in your head. Yet people helped each other. Unspeakable danger quite often brought up worst in the people. But also brought up the

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Dark times, Trip to Auschwitz

There were the worst of times for my family, my country and the world. Two terrible powers, on their insane way to dominate, crushed everything and everybody that was on the way to oppose their vision of the world. Poland for millennia was squeezed between bad and worse, between two shades of evil. Suddenly, our

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My writings–short stories, part three.

Wer reited so spat durch Nacht und Wind? … Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear? … Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Goethe, Der Erlkoenig.  The Erlking.  I remember this poem from my high school class in romantic literature.  The story of father riding horseback  through the woods with his sick boy,

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