There is a vitality in surveillance, a sense of power from attaining information that was not yours, whether it was hidden or not. Romek, who has literally been robbed of his masculine power, is seeking a way to restore his authority. Finding the physics notebook, and then the phone number, gives him a feeling of power.

We next see him riding a bicycle frantically down a dirt path — not the wide tired mountain bikes were are familiar with now, but an 80s era ten speed, narrow tire bike. The way he is bouncing off the bike seat makes me wonder if this is the way he made himself impotent. As he rides, we hear the Van Den Budenmeyer aria — a signal that he is going through these motions to seem more vital to the young woman who has captured his attention. She is obviously hopeless, he couldn’t have her even if she wanted him, but eros takes on whatever form it wants without asking us in advance.

The strenuous bike ride leads to a bridge and then to a rocky decline into water. He rides the bike down the rocks into water, which is only a few inches deep. Hansa wakes from a nap as this happens. She seems to sense that there is danger for Romek, touches the empty spot in bed. Romek wipes some water on his face. He seems depressed.

Their car pulls up at the KLM entrance to the airport, Hansa gets out. She then realizes she has something to say — echoes of Dekalog 4 — and asks Romek if he wouldn’t mind dropping by her mother’s house to pick up her umbrella and her favorite shawl. The mother is apparently away some place where Hansa is flying that day as a flight attendant. It is a brazen move by Hansa, this is the apartment she has been using for her trysts with Mariusz. Is this a game she’s playing or an unconscious desire to be caught?

Romek takes the keys to his mother in law’s apartment. But the first thing he does is head to a hardware store to make a duplicate of the key. As he pulls up to the apartment, he looks in the glove compartment and sees that the notebook is no longer in there. When he gets to the apartment, he notices a stack of magazines. He notices Mariusz’s notebook at the bottom. He then checks the bed.

Hansa checks her handbag for Mariusz’s phone number. She calls and asks him not to call her at home. He confirms the times that he can call her at work instead. He then tells her that he sent a postcard to her mother’s address, a picture postcard with the pope in a comic pose on front, telling her how he plans to make their next date. Hansa gets off the phone rapidly.

While she tries to call her mother’s phone to talk to Romek, he is dialing up that number he saw from Hansa’s bag … a woman picks up. Romek asks if Mariusz is there, she calls for him to the phone. So this kid apparently still lives with his mother. When he gets to the phone Romek says nothing, then hangs up, and briefly makes fun of the way Mariusz says hello.

The phone rings again, he picks up, it is Hansa. She tells him to hurry and “not snoop around,” mother doesn’t like it. I have to wonder — isn’t that almost an invitation to snoop around at least a little? Romek decides to check the mailbox on the way out and, of course, sees the silly postcard featuring Pope John Paul II making fake glasses with his hands. We do not see the card’s content.

Romek gets to the airport, drops off his mother in law’s belongings, and even leaves the car for Hansa so she can drive home at night after her daily flights. She asks him if her mother had any mail — he lies and says he didn’t check, and added that she should have asked him.

As Romek is leaving, Hansa calls out and asks where is the car registration. He responds “in the glove compartment.” She says “see you tonight” as he leaves.

It’s important again to remind ourselves that all of this intrigue is unnecessary. Romek has every right to ask Hansa direct questions about Mariusz. Hansa has asked one question about spying that Romek denied — so she’s ahead on the direct lie ledger — but the untruths and evasions are piling up on both sides now.

We create drama in our lives not because life is complicated and demands it. We create drama because life has become too dull and predictable — the intrigue keeps our minds active and our hearts racing.