Category: English

Nikolay Khozyainov in Kelowna – Beethoven Monument

Nikolay Khozyainov in Kelowna – Beethoven Monument

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

This was one opportunity I didn’t want to miss. Last night piano concert of Nikolay Khozyainov in Kelowna, British Columbia. Have heard of this young pianist few times and his fame proceeded him.  Was wary, though. Big fame and being a child prodigy (he started playing in  … Siberia – in all of forbidden places – at an early age of six and as a child already performed in Russian cities, including Moscow, a city with earned reputation of being very strict in offering the stage to no one but the best as far as music is concerned) can be misleading and sometimes such career is cut short and musician falls into obscurity.

But Nikolay is no longer a child, and no longer a prodigy of anyone but his own talent and hard work. Bought the tickets well in advance while I was still in Halifax so as not to risk missing the concert.

A fact that he was a finalist in 2015 famous Warsaw’s International Chopin Piano Competition certainly cemented his statue as a pianist, and opened the doors of many international stages to him.

The auditorium in Kelowna’s Waterfront Art Centre is an elegant venue but not a very large one. But the seats are well arranged, and it looked like you could see the stage from every row and corner. In a small venue like that I usually choose either an isle seat or a seat at the very back (best for making quick notes without disturbing anyone).

Day was cold and being next to the huge lake added to that unpleasant coldness of late November. But inside the atmosphere was pleasant. My surprise was that there was not a printed program. In a concert where many pieces of many composers will be played it is helpful to have one. That was a serious minus on the side of the venue administrators. That was not the end of surprises, though. LOL.

When the virtuoso appeared on the stage I was – to say it elegantly – amused. Long gone are the days when longtails were the only accepted attire. Slowly they were replaced by afternoon elegant jacket, even black sweaters (Oh, Mon Dieu!). But pants remained elegant, sharply pressed. And shoes. Ah, the shoes –  they are actually important, as they play, too  – alongside hand and fingers. Something has to touch the pedals, LOL. Therefore shoes were elegant leather, shiny.

When Maestro Khozyainov entered the stage – he wore non of it. Pardon, except the light but elegant jacked. No, no. He wasn’t half naked! Just the rest of the attire really does not belong on a stage in a concert hall. Even in Kelowna. I was wondering how his cozy and warm winter shoes will feel the pedals …

I know, a bit long introduction – but I was truly amused by all of it.

Alas, back to music. Khozyainov begun with Chopin’s Nocturn D Flat Major, Op. 27. I thought it was a bit rough at times. The beautiful melodies few times were missing a note, or a note fell off the order. Which was sad since that Nocturne is one of the most beautiful nocturnes of Chopin. And yes, the pedals were not used as smoothly and as consistently as they should have.

Next was fantastic Prelude Op.45. Chopin himself said it was best prelude. I think the pianist did very good job in showing the elegant nature of this composition. Following with Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op. 55  he brought peace to musical order. It is such a beautiful, poetic music. Khozainov fully regained his mastery of the instrument. I enjoyed it very much. It takes you for such a nice walk, memories of romance, of youth, of longing. Could be almost sentimental but still retains the deep feelings, the poetry of the soul. It remained me at times of the way incomparable Kristian Zimerman plays it. Use your inner feeling but stay close to the score seem to be the magic and don’t rush, allow the music to sink in.

After the Ballade, there was a short intermission and suddenly I felt like being back in Carnegie Hall or on Jasna Street in Warsaw’s Philharmonic. Back to great concerthalls of the world. Khozainov appeared in beautiful attire (with very shiny and elegant shoes, LOL) and things seemed all in place. Just waiting for the music to do the rest. It did.

Liszt and his delicate Impromptu Valse set the stage for musical fluidity, elegance. Following different feelings and pictures was Liszt Spanish Raphsody S.254. The Hungarian musical genius composed it in 1858, shortly after his visit to Spain. It has cascade of full octaves, rapid cords. A time to shine and awe,  as Khozainov did. I wouldn’t have been surprised if suddenly a solo ballet dancer would appear and did some pirouettes to the music. It didn’t, but it felt like it could. That was certainly a grand finale to the first part.

During the short break I had a nice chat with a fellow, who sat right in front of me, and we exchanged few impressions. It was pleasant conversation to fill the free time (and not missing any equally pleasant innuendos, LOL). Music and romance? That never happens! Or was it just me, who forgot that it does indeed?

However – the time for truly great romance awaited us back in the hall. Ludwig van Beethoven – the towering giant of classical music.

Nikolay played masterly transcribed by Liszt Allegretto from Beethoven’s Seventh.

For a triumphant finale he played probably the most difficult and unusual piano music of the great composer – his Sonata No.23 Op. 57 known as Appassionata. I could easily see it more as a full Piano Concert with orchestra. It is long piece (it is a sonata after all, therefore not too long) but the difficulty lays in its structure, abrupt changes of tempo, emotion, almost loosing melodic motifs. In a way, the Appassionata should habe been composed fifty or seventy years later. It is very much not a mirror of tastes and styles in Herr Ludwig times. But Herr Ludwig was not a man of a’la mode – Beethoven was a man of musical genius. Timeless. I suppose, it must be very difficult and not easy to memorize it to play without the aid of printed score. Because the Appassionata has distinctive long intervals it is very wise for the pianist to remain in full control as some people would not start to clap, thinking it was the finale. Khozainov had it all in check.

I am not surprised that (although not part of this concert repertoire) that he has played and recorded the arch-difficult Gaspar de la nuit by Ravel.

Of course, every musician is prepared for a a short bis after a concert. Nikolay was too. However – none were prepared for almost an entire third part of the concert! It was a sheer bravado which ended in an amusing and happy cavalcade on the keyboard.

Scriabin, Chopin, Rachmaninov, you name it! All the virtuosic pieces that shine and wants the audience to stand up and dance to it. We almost did. Applause did not stop. Just when we thought it is over, done, when we thought that it is almost impolite to demand more … Nikolay played his own impromptu fantasy. And everyone went crazy. What a bravado, gusto with a touch of showmanship. A pure joy of the music. I loved it.

In a chat afterwards we used simultaneously three languages, as both of us knew them: Russian, Polish and English. And he signed my notebook with name I have not seen in a very long time – with ‘otchestvo’ – a Russian peculiarity of using one’s name and the name of one’s father. Because I have the same name , as my father – it is of course: Bogumil Bogumilowitz, LOL. I like it.

Urban Mission Creek Park and a lake on high mountain in wilderness of Okanagan, BC.

Urban Mission Creek Park and a lake on high mountain in wilderness of Okanagan, BC.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Last two days two nice and very different treks. By land and by water. Friday by land, twelve kilometers through amazing Fall colours of Mission Creek Park following the shoreline of meandering and fast-moving creek, and on Saturday a drive Oyama through the snow- and ice-covered mountain to Oyama Lake. The temperature was still too high for the lake to freeze, there was hardly any wind, and kayaking was a nice adventure.

My perfect companions in Okanagan of kayaking – my cousin Lula and her friend Mike – made it a happy outing. For a lunch we ‘invaded’ a large, secluded and totally wild island, without any traces of human visits, made a little bit of clearing on the shore, gathered some dead wood, big rocks from the shoreline to construct a fireplace and had a lunch that tasted better than dinner in Maxime in Paris.

They will most likely return there during summer, so we spent some time arranging the rocks in the water to make a perfect natural harbor for two kayaks. Just a sleeping bag and voila – your private island in wilderness under the ceiling of bright stars!

Mission in Okanagan Valley – trees, sky and shoreline. – Gloria jesienna w Mission nad brzegiem jeziora Okanagan

Mission in Okanagan Valley – trees, sky and shoreline. – Gloria jesienna w Mission nad brzegiem jeziora Okanagan

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Każdy dzień w tej zaczarowanej dolinie, każdy spacer, wschody i zachody słońca oszałamia furią kolorów i kształtów. A jesień to wulkan i lawa widoków zalewająca wzrok. Słów szkoda, bo i tak zbyt ubogie na opis. Więc zdjęcia pozostają tylko.

Every day is like magic, like a tube of tiny specs of lights and shapes attached to you eyes. Words are useless – maybe photos will.

Kelowna the Queen of Okanagan Valley – Kelowna – Królowa Doliny Okanagan

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

(po polsku)

W zasadzie nie cała Kelowna, która (jak wiele kanadyjskich i amerykańskich miast) jest bardzo rozciągnięta olbrzymimi przedmieściami ciągnącymi się przez wiele kilometrów ale jej historyczne centrum – Downtown.

Historycznie ziemie te zasiedlone były narodami Silix lub inaczej Okinagan od blisko 10 000 lat. Europejscy osadnicy pokazali się tu bardzo późno, bo dopiero w drugiej połowie XIX wieku, a miasto inkorporowane ledwie w 1905 z 600 mieszkańcami. Współczesna Kelowna liczy ponad 140 tysięcy mieszkańców, a jej naturalne granice tworzą od północy jezioro Okanagan, od południa wzgórze Toovie i pasmo Black Mountains a od wschodu historyczne miasteczko Vernon, od zachodu rozległe farmy winorośli, jabłek i brzoskwiń.

Byłem tu wielokrotnie poczynając od połowy lat 80. ub. wieku, kiedy przyleciałem tu samolotem z Calgary na narty do resortu Black Mountain. Od l994 dość regularnie dojeżdżałem tu z Vancouveru. Obecna wizyta jest pierwsza od 2018 i zmiany są olbrzymie. Poza bardzo nielicznymi miejscami w Centrum – miasto uległo olbrzymim przeobrażeniom: w Centrum i bliskich dzielnicach gęstość zaludnienia, wieżowce kompletnie zmieniły jego charakter i widok. Musiałem się na nowo uczyć po tym centrum chodzić, bo poza ścisłym Nadbrzeżem – wszystko uległo zmianie. Zdjęcia poniżej właśnie z tego miejsca, a te powyżej to widok ze Wzgórz Toovie.

(in English)

In fact pictures here (except for the top showing showing entire city, as seen from Toovie Hills) are only from Downtown, historic center of Kelowna. It was established as a city in 1905 with 600 hundred inhabitants. Prior to that this land was inhabited for close to 10 000 years the the nations of Silix people (called also Okinagan people). Today’s Kelowna has undergone a major expansion and architectural face-lift in the last ten years. It hardly resembles a city I used to visit often a decade ago or so. High-rises and multitude of hotels, restaurants, vibrant cultural zone – changed the Downton core definitively. Here are some of the vistas.

Kayaking on Oyama Lake – kajakiem przez jez. Oyama

Kayaking on Oyama Lake – kajakiem przez jez. Oyama

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

(English) Traveling from Kelowna toward Vernon you will pass two wonderful lakes connected by a bridge: Kalamalka and Wood. Despite the fact that both of them are almost connected (at high water they definitely are) – both own a distinct and different hue. Years ago, on my visits to Kelowna, I used to swim in Kalamalka. If you go across that little bridge separating these lakes and turn left going up a gravel road full of turns and potholes – you would eventually end up on the shores of hidden gem – Oyama.

For kayakers and boaters it is truly wonderful experience, dotted with numerous little islands – some with easy access by kayak – there you can have a lunch or dinner as some have a firepits. Please be very mindful, though – in this type of total wilderness and remoteness fire could be a catastrophe of unthinkable consequences. From Oyama Lake I strongly recommend paddling to the left through an amazing channel covered with lilies, reed and acorus. That path offers amazing solitude and meandering for long time through narrow water channels. Eventualy you will enter anoter lake – Streak.

(Polish) W Kolumbii Brytyjskiej jadąc szosą 97 na wschód od Kelowny dojedziesz do dwóch bardzo charakterystycznych jezior: Kalamalka i Wood. Nie ma wątpliwości, że kiedyś był to jeden obszar wodny a i dziś w sezonach wyjątkowo deszczowych (co nie jest tu częste) jeziora się łączą starym kanałem. Mimo to, patrząc na nie ze wzgórz jedno ma charakterystyczny kolor zielonkawy a drugie zdecydowane stalowo-szary. Jakie są tego powody geologiczno-morfologiczne nie mam pojęcia, ale jakieś być muszą. Obecnie dzieli je mały mostek-grobla. Przejeżdżając ten mostek i skręcając ostro w górę na prawo od mostku wjeżdżasz w świat dziki i piękny. Bita, wąska i pełna wybojów droga zaprowadzi cię do klejnotu natury – jeziora Oyama z dziesiątkami mniejszych i większych wysp, a dla wioślarzy raj długiego, meandrującego pośród wodnych lilii i trzcin kanału. Ten wielokilometrowy kanał doprowadzi cię do jeziora Streak. Kanałem należy wiosłować ostrożnie by nie wbić się w błotnisty brzeg lub nie nadziać za szybko na zapadłe po wodą konary i pnie zatopionych drzew. Wszystko to jednak warte wrażeń widokowych. Wracając zatrzymaliśmy się na jednej z większych wysp na Oyamie i na istniejącym już palenisku zrobiliśmy wyśmienity lunch/obiad. Po prawdzie ‘zrobiliśmy’ to eufemizm, bo zrobił przyjaciel mojej kuzynki, Mike. Nie zabrakło kiełbasek na patyku ale były i krewetki, i cudownie przygotowana w grubych plastrach lekko zarumieniona cebula, duszone plsterki kartofelków. No i coś do popicia, naturalnie. Nie, nie była to woda jeziorna, LOL.

Kayaking on chain of lakes in wilderness above Okanagan Valley – kajakiem przez jeziora w puszczy wysoko ponad doliną Okanagan

Kayaking on chain of lakes in wilderness above Okanagan Valley – kajakiem przez jeziora w puszczy wysoko ponad doliną Okanagan

Ze wschodniego końca Kelowny wyjeżdżamy w utwardzoną szosę Beaver Lake. Jadąc bez przerwy w górę mijamy malownicze pastwiska dla ranczerów dla ich bydła. Krówki i byczki spacerują leniwie lub po prostu leżą w słońcu. W dole rozległy widok na miasto i jezioro Okanagan. Kolory jesieni przepyszne. Co jakiś czas droga przecięta jest tzw. Texas Gate, czy li metalowymi rurami, które mają uniemożliwiać bydlęciu przechodzeniu na inne pastwiska lub w lasy. Nie zawsze się to widac udaje, bo wjeżdżając w te lasy spotkaliśmy kilka krówek spacerujących po obrzeżach kręcącej sie drogi. Teraz już tylko lasami do ośrodka nad jeziorem Dee, gdzie wynajmujemy drewniana daczę i odnosimy kajaki na brzeg. Od Dee naturalne wodne kanały łącza nas do kolejnych jezior: jeziora Island (faktycznie ma wyspę na środku), następnie Deer Lake, Crooked Lake – przy Crooked Lake robimy pełny lunch na naturalnej tamie-grobli, która oddziela go od jeziora Bobra (Beaver Lake). Zbieramy też troche maślaków które rosną na obrzeżach puszczy. Po lunchu powrót tymi samymi jeziorami do jeziora Dee i naszego noclegu. Inny świat wokół – rozległe puszcze, pełna cisza, ryby skaczące przy brzegu. Wielogodzinne wiosłowanie przy takiej pogodzie to przyjemność ogromna.

Zdjęcia poniżej własne i mojej kuzynki Luli (która w naszej daczy z tych maślaczków zrobiła świetne danie, a potem smażyliśmy kiełbaski na patykach nad ogniskiem).

A two day trip to a chain of wonderful lakes Dee, Island, Crooked and Deer surrounded by deep forest on all sides. Many hours od kayaking and enjoying the peaceful world of Nature in the southern part of BC, above the Okanagan Lake and Valley.

Góry Skaliste w Kanadzie – Rocky Mountains

Góry Skaliste w Kanadzie – Rocky Mountains

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Wyjeżdżając w kierunku zachodnim z Calgary w prowincji Alberta otwiera się natychmiast widok na jedne z najpiękniejszych na świecie pasm górskich – Rocky Mountains, lub po polsku Góry Skaliste. Potęga, masywność tego pasma jest oszałamiająca.

Od pierwszego mojego spotkania z tymi górami zimą 1982 roku byłem pod ich wielkim wrażeniem. Pamiętam jak dziś spacer doliną rzeki Pipestone pod Lake Louise i pierwsze widziane w życiu ślady potężnych łap niedźwiedzia – widać miał kłopoty ze spaniem, bo śniegu było sporo i winien już chrapać w swojej norze, LOL.

Wspinaczki trudne i łatwe, dziesiątki długich szlaków turystycznych – bardzo polecam fantastyczną trasę od brzegów Lake Louise do brzegów jeziora Moraine prowadzącą przez Dolinę Rajską (Paradise Valley) i nie bez kozery – to trasa raju górskiego dla kochających góry – a zimą białe szaleństwo narciarskie. Wszystko to zaczyna się ariergardą Gór Skalistych – pasmem Kananaskis z wielkimi jeziorami i niesamowicie malowniczą trasą. W samym Kananaskis jest obecnie bodaj trzy ośrodki narciarskie i niezliczone trasy dla miłośników narciarstwa biegowego. A nieco dalej, we właściwych Górach Skalistych, resorty narciarskie zaczynają się już u wjazdu do nich, u podnóża kanadyjskiego Zakopanego – miasteczka Banff. A za nim oszałamiające trasy i widoki w ośrodku Sunshine Village, niecałą godzinkę dalej rozległe tereny ośrodka Lake Louise. Każde z nich oferuje dziesiątki tras zjazdowych: od bardzo łagodnych do najbardziej skomplikowanych. Mogą bez problemu konkurować o palmę pierwszeństwa z najlepszymi ośrodkami świata.

Przejeżdżałem tą całą trasę wzdłuż tych szczytów i dolin dziesiątki razy w ostatnich kilkudziesięciu latach i za każdym razem widoki po obu stronach szosy nr. 1 (Trans-Canada Highway) – podobnie było w tym miesiącu: zachwyt, jak za pierwszym razem. Natura w swym dzikim pięknie jest oszałamiająca.

A small gallery of pictures taken during my latest drive through the magic of Rocky Mountains – a territory of immense natural beauty and massive splendor. Drove through this lands so many times in the past 40 years, that it would have been impossible to count. But every time it feels like the first time – overwhelming feeling of awe. Whether the massive peak of Mt. Temple, long and solitary walls of Castle Mountain or any other range of towering giants – the feeling is always as being in some huge gallery of beautiful paintings

Walk through time

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski-Graham

We are coming back. Yes, to the very beginning, when our god said: let it be light. And light happened. We were no longer blind. And our god thought for a second: what use is of light if they can’t see Love? And the god said: let there be Love. And Love happened.

Remember? Come, give me your hand, I will lead you to a little night dancing bar in south-west Calgary, close to a bridge hanging above fast mowing waters of Bow River.

But how can you make it happen? – you asked – will god move back time for us? Of course not, silly you – I answered. But our god will let us see through time, see the moment in time when Love happened.

You see My Dear Boy; you don’t have to understand everything. I don’t. But I trust our god of Love. If you are sitting in the car next to me, talking to me – we both know it is strange and not normal –than just accept it. Just take my hand, follow me through the dark 10th Avenue toward the bridge on 14 Street. Recognize the small dark square building? The one with little flickering rainbow. Of course you do. Let’s peak through the dark thick glass at the door. It is almost empty inside. It is not Friday or Saturday night when it fills in with crowds of hungry young men seeking each other to quell that ancient hunger. No, that was a regular weekday evening. There was just three young men sitting by the bar on tall stools.

You were silent for a second. Looked at me with sad smile, looked through the dark glass again and you whispered: that’s you, myself and my brother. I asked: and what do we do? My Boy answered:  we talk, then we get up and go to dance floor and we dance. I exhale: Aha! But it only looks like just a dance. In truth we are love bearing. It is a lovebirth. Our god answered yours and my pleas. He gave us Love and we saw it through the Light. He didn’t lie. A promised fulfilled.

Wiping off a tear

A tear runs

through your

cheeks like

a stream of

clear pearls.

A flicker of sad

smile dances

in your eyes.

I kiss and

and wipe them

with a touch

of my fingertip.

No sadness please,

I plead with you.

Cry with happiness,

not with sorrow today.

Rejoice with that

memory, with that

journey in time.

Moment of coming

back to that town,

that place, that night.

Your flesh is warm

tonight, your eyes

are dreaming again,

your lips are trembling

and waiting for a kiss.

Tonight is our time

again, our gods

are giving us the gift

of Love, of promise

eternal to keep.

It won’t be broken

and it won’t be buried.

Just as you are real

tonight, sitting in a flesh

next to me, sending

quivers of anticipation

down my spine

and making me

sing again psalms

of thanks for

passion known

to young hearts

and old souls.

Be with me.

I had so many

long nights

of despair and

emptiness of

that vast bed

left only to

my body getting

smaller by the day,

by the night,

 by the hour.

It was vast indeed,

that empty space

of our bed,

that turned into

the desert of Gobi,

 the desert of Rumi’s

lover wandering

days on end

and nights under

stars flickering

above – for whom?

 I have built

a fort of our Love

on forgotten,

lost and wild

beach of North Atlantic.

Because I couldn’t

look at the vast

empty bed of ours.

Even that was

not enough.

Not even the friendly

powerful waves

I swam in.

Although, they did

took pity in my sorrow

and offered graciously

the peace of cold

vastness of their depths

far from the shores

and noise of human

plights and pitfalls.

 I run from them, too.

 I run nonstop

for hundreds and

for thousands of miles.

I run the way we came

to these northern shores.

But I run opposite way,

I run back to our home,

and back to the beginning

of our time,

our Love

 its birthplace –

where we emerged

from the cool and fast

waters of Elbow and Bow

Rivers, from the singing

mermaids of Fish Creek

at the foot of snowy peaks.

And I found you

wondering aimlessly,

blindly where all the waters meet

to become one.

And I grabbed you,

I hold you,

And I kissed you.

I won’t let go.

We will go again

to the other ocean,

to our home,

our waves,

our lovemaking.

Maybe we will go

On Capitol Hill there,

And walk to the small

trail down to

the inlet and find

the rock we liked

to seat on while

watching passing ships.

And we will plant

our souls there,

by that rock, under

that sky and moon.

Our souls will stay

there forever,

nothing will disturb them

separate them.

They will wave at

the shadows

of our bodies,

and will smile saying:

thank you. We will stay here.

And now you can go free.

Do you see now, My Boy,

why I did all of it?

The searching?

The running?

The travelling to

the beginning of time,

to the birthplace of Love

and Lovebearing?

Now you can’t

be sad anymore.

I can’t despair, either.

We were just vessels

for our souls

and our souls are

together again

till the end of times.

Our mission is done.

Let the sadness

be happy, fulfilled.

And smile at me once more.

I will kiss your

happy tear, too.

Thus, the saga ends.  A saga of Love I had, a saga of Love I shared with My Boy. Or Love he had and shared with me.

I have written about it, that Love we shared, many times on these pages. At times it was a scream of pain and despair; at times pleading with Fates to turn time back, before that tragic day when My Boy died in my arms; at times it was rejoicing the time we had; or proclaiming urbi et orbi that he is alive in me, is part of me. None of that was a lie or imagination. We search for words and ask our imagination to name things we can’t truly comprehend or fully accept.

But the simple and honest answer is that my life have changed few times irrevocably: I was a different person before I met my Lover and become a different one after that meeting, absolutely and instantly understanding that I just can’t exist anymore without his presence in my life; the day My Boy ceased existing in a material world – I become once more a different person. I remembered, I resembled that previous versions of me, shared our common life – but I wasn’t IT anymore. And I know that it never will. Wish that it wasn’t like that – but accept that it is. Mostly – I’m filled with awe that I found my soulmate, soulsharer. A gift so rare and precious it escapes a name. But you do know and recognize IT the moment it appears.

One of the greatest poet of Romanticism,  Adam Mickiewicz , wrote in his major drama “Dziady” famous sentence ‘Gustavus obitt – hic natus Conradus’[i] that begins the spiritual transformation of the main character of his long poem. But that transformation starts and continues for a very different reason  and goals. The hero (Gustav) has a vision and proceeds to become a different person. I did not have any visions, nor did I planned to become someone else. Indeed – I never had become someone else. Emotional events have made major changes in and of my life. It changed me very much so, but it did not erased my past. I still carry it with me, the good and the bad.  A gift of great love – if you receive one, and it is a rare occurrence – carries great peaks of pleasure and happiness … but it also could carry an immensely deep pits of darkness and sorrow. So dark and so deep it could swallow you whole. Am I advising you not to seek such love, not to try? No. But if I can be bold, I will say that walking up and down pleasant hills is not the same as climbing Mt. Everest. And many who did neither reach the peak nor returned. My climb or rather descent is only two years old. And I am still not sure if I will return to safe shelter.

[i] (translation from Latin) Gustav dies – Conrad is born