LIMOUSINE FOR FREEEADING 17
SAWA
Sawa’ is a special word/name for me, it has often appeared in my life. Before I went to study in Warsaw, I lived in a housing estate between Lenina and Warszawska streets, and this metaphor of Wars and Sawa was often used as people destined for each other. As a couple. I had a close friend Sawicki in primary school who contracted meningitis and a helicopter came to pick him up. It was a big event among the children in the neighborhood. Almost like one father’s escape from the balcony using a vacuum cleaner pipe after the outbreak of Martial Law. I met this friend after college, he had recovered and was doing dance therapy. In Białystok, people went to Savona for pizza because it was right in the center, cheap and the portions were large. One of the oldest establishments that survived the bankruptcy race and even opened branches. When I returned from Warsaw to Białystok at the end of 2002, exhausted and burdened, every following year I met another Sawicki, a photographer who took photos of me for actors agencies, for example, or a night security guard at the Branicki Palace, the so-called Versailles of the North, a chess partner there. Thanks to one Sawicka, I returned to Warsaw and started working on public television. Thanks to another Sawicka I started to learn editing. The outstanding Akira Kurosawa has become one of my favorite film directors. This ‘-Sawa-‘ always appeared in comments along the way and milestones, so to speak. Thinking back on the women I met, I see that they all somehow led me to One.
SAVONA
In Savona on election Sunday, I saw such a beautiful brunette, so similar to another beautiful woman I know from photos and video clips, that I was floored. She was going to vote with equally nice friends and suddenly she turned around and looked kindly at me, smiling gently. Female beauty is meant to be admired, as some classicist seems to have said. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen with my own eyes. Right here in Savona.
Driving past Nice with a View, I found a public shelf of books to share and this is a selection of vintage Memorial de Notre Temps from Quillet. It’s heavy, so maybe to read through boredom on a plane. A highly subjective review of the given info of the year. Included in elegant leather. The very idea of selecting the most important information is, after all, the most important and a great question was, is and will be: Who would do it? Who makes the choice? This type of choice is, after all, one hell of a suggestion.
THROUGH PROVENCE AND AUVERGNE
It always seemed obvious to me, not only when driving a camper, but in general, enjoying the benefits of life/adventure and the so-called unexpected twists and turns, that I did not plan certain things, Or I’m not paying enough attention to it. There are so many stories going around us all the time, it’s better, in my opinion to find a way to try to read them with sense, just WEIGHT their S/plot. And for these reasons, apart from financial and a certain boredom, I avoided paid camping. The French invented the Park4Night app, where people report and review FREE spots they find. So I often try to avoid this application and go wherever the eye or fate leads. Well, making the decision not to sleep in Lyon at night, parking somewhere in the dark, I woke up on a white rocky field of ‘Viking’ ‘sport’.
LYON
For various reasons I don’t hunt animals. However, I consider the modern version of this to be wandering around with a camera with one lens, observing not the potential of post-production fun/correction of the photo, “squeezing the max” out of it, but the objects themselves, compositions, events and their collisions, and more and more often people. I realize that it may not be entirely original, but if I observe how these mini adventures are arranged into a story, it satisfies me. As if, of course, time and money were not wasted, these photos are arranged chronologically. As legs and sense of smell led, from this place where Husbil was parked.
