"Rynek"

Writer's block? Go to the rynek, or square, in Krakow.  Buy some flowers from a lovely, rubber-boot-shod lady. Approach, respectfully, the statue in the photo. It is Adam Mickiewicz, swashbuckler, rabble rouser, who wrote an ode in which angels debate the European discovery of America, and decide to trade the tragic sacrifice of the Native Americans so that the hungry masses of the world might receive, in exchange, the potato; a man who grabbed the pope's sleeve and declared that the Holy Spirit could be found under the shirts of the workers, a man who died fighting for Turks' freedom.
 
Sit at the base of the statue.
 
Put your pen to your pad. You will write a poem (even if you've never written a poem before).
 
The man will be handsome, and dashing. The woman will stop hearts, or tanks. It will all end tragically, with everyone singing a rousing hymn.
 
No more writer's block.
 
This statue is mentioned in the diary excerpt, "Riot."