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Just me.

Just me.

Sunday, 26 March 2017

Fall in the Light

Model: Natalia Sergeeva 
Art Director: Anka Zhuravleva arts 
Photo and edit: Photography by Ela Frączkowska    (

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).

Monday, 20 March 2017

'My' Tree

This is my mobile phone picture of the very tree that fascinates me every time   I see it.  It's just been published here: (or here).

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Today Was a Good Day

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.

Monday, 13 March 2017

My Way

I took these photographs during my walk in Poland when I last visited it.

Sunday, 5 March 2017


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
And so
She walks
She walks to the edge of the world
to watch the sun
touching the lake

               She dances with the wind
               above her
               behind her
               about her
                                 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,
with joy.

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