When Walter White cried in the desert.

Spoiler alert! If you're holding off on diving into the "Breaking Bad" pool of drama, skip this post.

Imagine it: 3 am, Wisconsin, a solitary figure of Polish descent lodged in their art studio, consumed by the relentless grip of the "Breaking Bad" saga, ears trapped by Jesse screaming:

“Yeah, Bitch. Magnets!”

In that witching hour, Walter White and Jesse had commandeered every facet of my existence (the figure of Polish descent is me, duh), rendering all other tales as mundane as boiling water. Except for a handful of timeless classics like "Never-ending Story" and "Dirty Dancing," alongside other enigmatic European films garnished with red balloons or melancholia (Lars von Trier is both wondrously sick in the head and sick of this world.)

But amidst a world steeped in deceit and manic-pulation, "Breaking Bad" stands as a wild odyssey through the Polish, pickles-obsessed, psychedelic landscape of my mind.

That scene in the desert. Remember this ultimate heartbreak? Did your heart not break seeing the "To’Hajiilee" episode? Oh, Mr. White, it hit me like a barrage made of knives.

Hank kneeling before the drug dealer, staring death in the face.

Walt, sweating, and regretting, I bet.

And just before the bullets start flying, the almighty Hank, the good guy, the guy that has principles drops his truth bomb on Walt:

"You're the smartest guy I've ever met, and you're too stupid to see he made up his mind ten minutes ago."

BOOM.

Then ssssssssilence.

Walt's tears rolling within his, carved like valleys, ~~wrinkles~~ mistakes.

In the background—the majestic red mountains of To’Hajiilee, silently judging the mess these guys have made.

I used this iconic image during the covid era madness. It is one of the most metaphorical cinematic scenes I've ever seen in my life. I just rewatched it and the tears are as fresh as my morning coffee. Every damn time.

Why?

The scene is about the Truth. The Truth bigger than millions of dollars, Walt’s cancer, or even life. And then about loyalty, blind spots, honor, and all kinds of fancy promises we can't keep.

It is not about money. Nope, not even close.

"To’Hajiilee" roughly translates to "dipping water," a nod to the Navajo people who settled there after telling the powers-that-be to shove it. Symbolically, it's like saying, "I'm doing what's true, against the grain, my essence paints a vivid tale."

And let me tell you, that place, To’Hajiilee, these days is a dry, thirsty desert.

How ominous.

I know that the director of the show knew what he was doing, setting pivotal moments in this symbolic hotspot. The brilliance of this scene emanates from its transcendent, profoundly poignant place.

The “Because I say so” place.

The "I'd rather die than conform" place.

The “I Am Not In Danger—I Am The Danger” place.

And this approach to living has less to do with morality and everything to do with authenticity.

Ouch, that word.

Hear me out.

authenticity* from Greek authentikos "original, genuine, principal," from authentes "one acting on one's own authority," from autos "self" (see [auto-]) + hentes "doer, being" (from PIE root *sene- (2) "to accomplish, achieve"). The sense of "real, entitled to acceptance as factual"

is recorded from mid-14c.

Let's do a puzzle based on the above:

Self + Doer + Being + to Achieve + sense of Real.

Authenticity: To achieve the real self.

Now, that kinda smells like psycho-babble, and hey, I respect psychology, but I've got a bit of a conundrum with people psychologizing everything. And let's not forget old beardy Freud and his fascination with kids and, uh, intimacy. Shall we NOT dive into that juicy little tidbit... Bet you didn't know. Or they made you not notice.

Oh well, we do live in the world of SPELLS.

When you open TikTok (don't!), you'll be flooded with automatons of selves.

Lip-syncing to the same songs for weeks seems to sell, and those dancing nurses and people were pointing at the screen of their phones when the sentences appeared, like, yep, I could not otherwise notice them.

Or that 90's crackling high-pitched AI voice reading what's on screen.

Or the meh-celebrities with their million-dollar reactions to some random skit. Like, come on, Brad Pitt, we know you've got better things to do. Like, who has you blackmailed, Brad? What hellhole (pit?) have you found yourself in that you must sit in front of your camera pretending that this is exactly what you like to do in your free million-dollar time? Yeah,

NO.

While TikTok is churning out clones faster than a sci-fi movie, Hank Schrader was out there, in the red mountains of hot assertiveness, being the Doer of Real Self, choosing to die for the truth, and his eyes were red and wet, like when you know this is IT. And let me highlight for you—he went out with a bang.

Literally.

This is where we talk about us.

In a world where reality often wears a mask, being authentic and committed to truth becomes a daring adventure filled with poetic twists

and humorous yet often deadly turns.

Like this: amidst the chaos of Albuquerque’s absurd narcotic stage, where his wife likes to steal baby shower tiaras, while his job is to hunt gangsters and dying liars,

there stands Hank, the bold protagonist, armed not with swords, but with sincerity as sharp as a wit-filled quill.

Authenticity, dear friend, is the North Star guiding us through the murky and stinky waters of pretense. Embracing it means shedding the cumbersome cloak of societal expectations and dancing naked under the moonlight of our rēalselves (one word.)

As I think in images, this is a perfect time to bring up the Tarot card of La Stella/L’Etoile/The Star.

Look, you don't think she cares who's staring at her, do you? Her job is to nourish the ground, (glorious) tits out. Fertile act of sincerity in the public. She is out and about in the world, but fully in her own, private naked veil, unapologizing and raw.

The truth has a capricious side too—it plays pranks, leaving us chasing phantoms of half-truths and exaggerated anecdotes. The naughty bit to The Star card is that on some older Marseille versions, she has an eye painted on her belly. She sees from the gut, the lower Dan Tian from Chinese magical arts, the vessel of the river flowing through a person.

This is the place of "authentikos".

The labyrinth of the cosmos, micro and macro, is hilariously demanding. Yet, in this comical dance of words, truths, and deceit, lies the beauty of our quest—unveiling the layers of genuineness buried beneath the rubble of conformity.

There, twinkle the wet and red eyes of Hank, looking at us and asking:

"What would YOU do?"

In a world starved for sincerity, let's be the buffet of truth, serving up honesty with a side of laughter or at least some poetry. After all, life is too short for anything less than genuine, poetic, and downright authentic.