I'm well-travelled, but - some time ago - I decided to promote two countires that I love: Poland and Wales. Here are some photos from one of them. All were taken with my mobile phone.
If you like quality, view them here (+ a few more): http://www.vogue.it/photovogue/portfolio/?id=42254
My sister can't stand this photo. She asked me to delete it from Facebook and I acquiesced (not my standard reaction). She says her daughter looks like a child from a horror film. I love it, though, and my niece's stare. Also, I've got her (my sister's) permission to post it on here and on Instagram, so I'm not being naughty. Model: My Niece Photo and edit:Photography by Ela Frączkowska
Perhaps completely unrelated to what you can see here is that I've recently started watching Black Mirror (I'm only saying this now because I just feel like it). It made me think about all the times I said 'You're only human!' to make someone feel better.
I absolutely love this photograph of Olivia, so I'm posting it here to complement my wishes.
May this year's Easter bring you love, joy and a lot of peace. Try to see good and beauty in every situation, surround yourself with lovely sounds, words and views, breathe them all in, and live.
I've been rereading Krishnamurti's Freedom from the Known (I read this book when I was 19 and I can recall frantically underlining almost every sentence in it). I still think that it's a wonderful book and that the way he distinguishes joy from pleasure is just mind-blowing. Read it.
In his letter to John Christie from 2 March 1998, John Berger talks about this very strong feeling that he received as soon as he saw one of the two photographs John Christie sent him. Yes, the feeling he received (as it - the feeling - was in the picture). It wasn't a question of interpretation... Then, referring to what his friend wrote to him, he mentions the fact the in small things delight is intense.
Happy Mother's Day! In Poland, we celebrate it on 26 May (two months to go), but I'll be flying there much sooner just to see My Mum on her birthday (and to feel that intense delight many of you may be experiencing today).
Two good things related to my post from 5 March tonight...
Firstly, one of the photos from that post got published today (here's a link to it, but you can view it below, too).
Secondly, I had the most bizarre 2-min chat with my friend Ben in the afternoon. Here's what happened (this is only an approximation, of course). - You know that poem by Berger that you posted on your blog? It's absolutely beautiful! It's exquisite.
- What Berger's poem are you on about?
- You know that recent post with a few pictures from your walk? You said you quoted Berger...
- Oh... Oh! Oh, that's my poem. The only bit by Berger is in the last stanza where the quotation marks are.
I'm not greedy for compliments (most of the time, I - honestly - don't like them), but it just doesn't get any better than that if you love Berger the way I do. Ben, you're unbeatable.
Today, I went for a walk imagining my mum thinking about her mum.
She knows well she hasn't grown
to be owned
She doesn't crave to belong
She walks to the edge of the world
to watch the sun
touching the lake
She dances with the wind
She is the only witness to
the drop of sorrowed sounds
the fall of jewelled lacrima of the clouds
hitting the ground
The flat, expressionless sky
teaches her that
'More than half the stars
in the universe
are orphan-stars (...).
And they give off more light than
all the constellation stars.'
And she walks to the end of the Road to You, Mother,
In the last stanza, I quoted John Berger, of course, who - I think - is now in heaven, so the sky makes sense to me and his words are taken from his essay Impertinence.
And when I lay my head down on your pillow, I know that I'll sleep well, believing that Heaven's for letting or that we've never left Zion. The Land of Tenderness will welcome me at dawn. With no urgency, you'll, softly, look into my heart to quietly remind me that life needs to be thought about, just like a happy death that will meet us halfway when we shut the windows of vanishing tomorrows.