And so I decide to take a 1.30pm flight to Kraków…
A short exploratory trip connected to connecting, genetic memory, listening, walking, and touching the ground…
Day 1
I stay still and listen to the the shifting sounds of distant trams
and the repetitive slicing of old stones
vibrating through the thick walls from the building next door.
Walking through the city streets, echoes from the darkness of the stone arches, upholstered chairs and curtains provide a false hush. These drawn intimacies seem to act as intimate buffer zones across the city and its hidden spaces…
In a small market, low tarpaulins and voices are lowered, so as not to bruise the soft fruits and hand strained curds. I buy raspberries and carry them home like a child. My footsteps become gentle and soft too, as the act of carrying dictates the movement. Or maybe I am tempted to suddenly run, and let the berries crush red on the pavement…
Twilight…thin smoke twirls upwards from a thin cigarette on the next table, and meets with dust rising from the digging of a patch of dry soil in front of me. They are seemingly having their own conversation. Smoke and dust mingle.
Here, everything is written, yet there is an almost visible whisper that coats the past…I can hear it when I touch the ground with my hair…
