I am addicted to stories. If I reject them, it's only out of fear that the characters will come too close to me; to feel comfortable I need a few meters of space (plus the picture as a whole is better seen in this position). Like in the calm, waving "Lighthousekeeping" by Jeanette Winterson, the stories around me have no beginnings nor ends, they flow in time and space with their currents always interweaving. I can see it best when I go out from the dark rooms of the Muranów movie theater, where Juliette Binoche or Tony Gatlif have just made my thoughts slow down. I walk into the daylight, into the city, into the crowd, and watching it all in slow motion I can clearly see the story written into each and every face. These people are the embodiments of their own secrets - and that's why I admire the work of Frank Warren so much; he was the first to make the secret that keeps us human and decent the very center of an artistic project. All those pretty and ugly faces, hidden from the world, but still, showing so precisely how much strength they possess. Strange constellations of relations between the individuals, and the shivers down my spine when I accidentally step into the game, only to spend hours or days to regenerate in my flat.
And sometimes, though very rarely, among this cavalcade, some big dark eyes that wish to see a peaceful lake covered with fog.
Humankind is charming. If only you can stay on the shore, with a hot mug and a blanket, and silently watch, and only watch.
And yes, hope that from time to time someone will sail up to you in good faith.
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