Pokot: The Sacred Path to Warrior-Hood Page #4

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and I'm clueless.

I travel'd thro' a Land of Men

This is what I have:

I traversed a land of people,

A land of men and women too,

hearing and seeing things more horrible

Than any human ever knew.

Why not "roamed" instead of "traversed"?

I roamed through a land of people...

And avoid repeating "land."

What rhymes with "land"?

Sand - hand - brand...

No, we're getting nowhere.

What's that?

What do you mean?

- Seems weird.

Where?

Look. It's not moving.

Maybe someone needs help?

Last week the mailman got snowed in.

Exaggerating as always.

Did you hear what he said?

That the wound on his leg was a hare bite!

It's the police chief's Land Rover.

Impossible. At this hour?

Look here, in the snow.

Deer tracks.

Somebody's there!

He may still be alive.

It's the police chief.

Call the station.

You have your phone?

I left it at home. Use yours.

No, I can't get mixed up in this.

- May I?

What are you doing?

Taking a photo of the tracks.

What tracks? He's dead!

What's the matter with you?

Animals.

Please sign here, Mr. Wolski.

This is for you, Mr. Wnetrzak.

Ms. Duszejko!

Did you find your dogs?

- Unfortunately not.

You want me to sign?

I've delivered lots of these.

One for Swierszcznski, too.

A bunch for the police chief's buddies.

Greedy mother f***ers!

Including Wnetrzak.

He got his summons too.

You really think he got rich

on that thrift store?

Or fox farming? Bullshit.

It's all a front!

He runs a casino-brothel at home.

Those guys gamble fortunes away.

The police chief did business with him

and visited his whores.

Girls from Romania, Chechnya, Ukraine.

He keeps them in his basement.

Local girls too.

Like the girl from his store.

Bastard, he must have something on her.

I know she's a nice girl.

You have an imagination.

- Yeah.

Well, we'll see.

How could the chief

afford that car on a cop's salary?

Power goes to your head

and you lose your sense of decency.

We used to be friends.

Even played soccer together.

But he became a big shot

and started ignoring me.

I was just a mailman.

My moped against his Jeep Cherokee!

Land Rover Discovery.

Whatever. Who gives a sh*t?

The poor bastard is dead.

Just a moment.

Take this for Swierszcznski.

And sign for him.

I'm in a hurry.

Thanks. Good day.

Damn.

Why not live on the freaking moon?!

Police summons.

You ever drive that car?

Never seen you at the wheel.

You crazy? On these roads?

Please come in.

Some coffee?

How about tea?

I have great coffee.

Fine.

Polish Mushroom Pickers Union?

Mushrooms are probably

the only thing that brings Poles together.

Individual activity.

Very competitive. Zero cooperation.

And everyone keeps their mouths shut

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