Notes
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I was here. Do buildings have souls? Story from Opole.
She walked through a deserted city, leaves rustling under her shoes. She wore a long black coat, boots, a backpack draped over one shoulder, and a red beret. With steaming coffee to go in her hand. She was so pensive that she managed to irritate a few drivers along the way, being entirely focused on the purpose of her stroll. For a long time, she has not allowed herself to be immersed in her thoughts to that extent, more often running away from them into the silly social media videos. Unknowingly, browsing irrelevant content left a blank spot in her head. Sometimes she threw away her phone, thinking that the…
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We are all the same. Thoughts from Palermo.
I wrote this text in November, sitting over a coffee and a croissant at the Massimo Theater cafe in Palermo. It was my first trip after a long break and I remember that it struck me in this city that I felt at home in it. After talking to some of the residents I met, I realized that perhaps this impression was compounded by the fact that the city’s architecture in many respects referred to the Catalan style, and I used to call Barcelona my second home, wasn’t it? I felt, however, that this is not the point. In this autumn Palermo, which was saying goodbye with warm rain and…
