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Miscellaneous mistakes

Through the eyes of a biologist

It is no secret: I am no biologist. As I grow older, and the world mystifies, amazes, and confuses me more so, I realize that no one is though. Instead, what we are – and what we remain to be – is a shelling of a fleshy cadaver bred from billions upon billions of years of evolution. We do not stand as the harbingers of biology; we sit under the ray of a magnifying lens for we are a biological experiment.

It begins with cloning. Then, darkness. Then, light. Then, breath. Then, no one knows. At that point, biology becomes probability and logical impossibilities meet illogical congruities. In short, life begins.

And while my beginning is unknown to me, my current state is known. I am a slime mold, a fungi, a plant, a chimp, and all else in between. I am everything I ever was, and everything I ever will be. After my death, evolution will occur again. New biological experiments will begin. Others will end. So the cycle continues. So it always will.

Here, though, I will not discuss the resultant processes that construct us nor will I catalogue the many hypotheses of evolutionary history. It’s not because I am ignorant on these topics; rather, I am not smart enough to discuss them freely. I would be parroting other ideas before me instead of inciting thought of my own. While it is true I am genealogically related to a slime mold, I hope that my evolutionary history will at least allow me to separate from a parrot. It would be all Polly wants anyways.

So instead, I will outline the evolutionary history of my life. Oddly enough, I am not smart enough to describe my life either. This is one thing that I have been taught. We may learn something new every day, but we die stupid.

Stupidly then, the life and death of Kacper Niburski:

Day 1


Day 2


Day 3


Day 4

Two eggs. Two sperm.

Day 5


Day 6.


Day 7

Throw up.

Day 8


Day 9

Test. Worry. Smile.

Day 10


Day 11


Day 12


Day 13


Day 14-181

Blowing placental air into a balloon.

Day 182


Day 183

Three months premature amoebas are born. They cannot cry. They cannot move. They can live, though. Barely.

They begin to die on March 20, 1992.

Day 184


Day 185

5 to 7 percent survival.

Day 186


Day 187


Day 188

Heart monitor flat-lines.

Day 189

Miracle. Resurrection.

Day 190-268

Tubes. Needles. Analysis. Biology.

Day 269

First time home.

Day 270

First time back to hospital.

Day 271-364


Day 366

Half birthday; celebrated like full. Every day, every second, every moment; birthdays.

Day 548

First real birthday.

Day 913


Day 961


Day 1294

Heart mixes with dough, dough with blood, blood with screams, screams with silence.

Father comes home. He is never the same.

Day 1303


Day 1304

Food stamps.

Day 1305

Salvation army.

Day 1306

Praying again.

Day 1307


Day 1308

Stop praying. Doing.

Day 1326

Third birthday.

Day 1343

First word. “Twin.”

Day 1360


Day 1361-1402


Day 1404

Day care.

Day 1405

Hate school.

Day 1406

Feign sickness.

Day 1407

Lie uncovered. School becomes a punishment for at least 20 years.

Day 1691

Fourth birthday.

Days blurr

Sometime during the hazy days: Lego, full sentences, speech impediment, first love, first heartbreak, scars, bullies, fights, black-eyes, sports, winning, losing, success, failure, awards, called a genius, called an idiot, believing in the latter, criticism, wonderment about the world, dreaming, star-gazing, friends, enemies, sleeping with regrets, waking up with them, laughing, crying, doing both at once, promising the ocean to never stop moving, stopping to see the ocean move, lying, reading, reading, reading, poor penmanship, glasses, math challenges, challenging math, cancers, lack of answers, Poland, cousins, family, heritage, tradition, airplanes, and trips, where father always mumbled away, mother always grumbled back.

Some things – like a life – can never be forgotten.

And sometimes, it can be told in a paragraph.


Other times, only in pictures.


Day 269

Day 544

Day 1265

Day 1368

Day 1588

Day 2200

Day 2734

Day 4230

Day 5110

Day 6445


If you look into my eyes, globes of evolutionary history that they are, you’ll be looking through the eyes of a biologist.

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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