Daydreaming in SopotBy Carole MARTINEZ Sofitel Grand Sopot
It’s the offseason, and from the balcony of his hotel room overlooking the Baltic Sea the author contemplates the vast strip of white sand that curves along the edge of Gdansk, Sopot and Gdynia, between the sea and the forest in the famous Danzig Corridor, and from his perch, notebook in hand, he hears and then transcribes the speech and thoughts of people on the beach, people who thus become the characters in his short story inspired by the scene.
A man wanders along the shore; a child dashes toward the water; a young woman, huddling in a red coat, is sitting in the sand; a teenager with a shaved head hovers around a bike locked to the fence that encloses the garden of the hotel where the novelist is staying while he writes his text and, directly under his window, an elegant man in his 30s comes out to smoke a cigarette on the terrace. Like the author, he’s watching the sea, the child, the beach, the boardwalk, the fence and the garden below.
As he observes the world around him, the author also tries to sneak up and surprise his thoughts, which is like listening to himself breathe. The flow of thought stagnates, it slows to accommodate the rhythm of his note-taking, the thoughts restrain themselves, they become organized, they sense that they are being watched.
Breath and thought are never freer than when they are unaware of themselves. The author writes that all writing is a construction.Even a poetic outburst is still thought listening to itself, self-adoring, mirror-like thought.
Wild mind is elusive. It does not consist of a single thread that is strung within us; it’s more a thick net, full of knots and holes, broken lines, layered like a millefeuille. As he writes in front of the sea, his head is filled, so much is running through his mind.