My father was an electrician at the Gdańsk shipyard for thirty-one years, and every morning he took the 6 tram from Wrzeszcz to the gate, and every summer morning I took the 6 the other way, to the beach at Brzeźno, and we'd pass each other somewhere around the Opera and he'd raise a hand from his window and I'd raise one from mine.
I was going to be an electrician. Then I was going to be a shipbuilder. Then I wrote a thing for the school paper about the tram — about the two directions, about the hand — and a teacher sent it to the Gazeta and they printed it and paid me forty złoty and that was that.
The shipyard is mostly museums and flats now. My father is retired and has views on the flats. The 6 still runs, and when I'm home I still take it to the beach, and he still, if he's on the balcony, raises a hand.
I've written about transport for fifteen years. I've never written anything as good as the tram piece, and I was fourteen, and I'm not being modest. You only get the one.