К октябрю готова:

 Приехали ребята в гости с внучкой, и это счастье.

Лытдыбровое-невеселое

Две недели я с трудом хожу, и даже обычные прогулки до магазина, а уж тем более по городу даются с трудом: это фрустрирует и угнетает. Странным образом хромота и боль у ступне сказывается и на работе: не могу заставить себя сесть за предисловие к сборнику (хотя давно уже пора). Если это те самые пресловутые приметы возраста ™, то мне они активно не нравятся — пожалуйста, отмените.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 17 “Białystok: PS” (En; photos)

And just like that, Białystok has become a fab memory:

Польские tutti quanti: P. 16 “Farewell to Białystok” (En; photos)

Bye, marvellous Białystok, and warmest thanks for your fabulous hospitality, beautiful historic sites, beyond delicious food and, of course, lovely people! We already want to come back.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 15 “The Jewish Heritage Trail” (En; photos)

And, of course, when in Białystok, you must see the Jewish Heritage Trail—the locations where Jewish people lived, worked and prayed before the horrors of the Holocaust. Sadly, we didn’t have time to see many places connected with Jewish history, but we managed to visit The Great Synagogue Memorial, which was installed on the site of the Great Synagogue, destroyed by the Nazis, and Synagoga Cytronów, The Cytron Synagoge (at 24a Ludwika Waryńskiego St), which now is used as a museum.

…Never forget.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 14 “Podlaskie Museum in Białystok” (En; photos)

Podlaskie Museum in Białystok, which is established in the Town City Hall, holds a small yet quite distinguished collection of artworks, among which the best are, in my opinion, a few paintings by Jacek Malczewski, a prominent Polish Symbolist artist (if you love Odilon Redon, Puvis de Chavannes, Čiurlionis, Somov and Borisov-Musatov, you won’t be disappointed).

There were also portraits of the Branickis, a wealthy Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth hetman family whose palace is located in the centre of the city and one of whom is buried in the Catholic cathedral (its old part) nearby. Several of the portraits belong to Józef Simmler, a famous Polish classicist painter, and they do look masterful.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 13 “Branicki Palace” (En; photos)

They call it the “Polish Versailles” for a reason: it’s magnificent, especially on a glorious sunny day like it is today:

But even now I sometimes see in a dream the grey heather and the stunted grass of the waste land, and King Stach’s Wild Hunt leaping, dashing through the marshes. The horses’ bits do not tinkle, the silent horsemen are sitting up straight in their saddles. Their hair, their capes, their horses’ manes are waving in the wind, and a lonely star is burning overhead.

King Stach’s Wild Hunt is racing madly across the earth in terrifying silence.

I awaken and think that its time is not yet over, not as long as gloom and darkness and cold, social inequality and dark horror exist on earth. Across the land, half drowned in fog, still clashes The Wild Hunt.” ©

(“Forest King” by Julius Von Klever)

A tilt shift obsession

One of my birthday gifts to L. was the tilt-shift lens: we both suddenly became interested in amateur photography with those slightly odd tilt shift effects, which resulted in purchasing Lensbaby Tilt Transformer 22mm/f/3.5 for Micro 4/3, and yesterday L. and I. tried it for the first time in Ely on its serene sceneries.

Of course, at the moment we are only learning how to use it, but I already find the whole process thoroughly entertaining: looks like we’ve visited a mini-version of the city.

Ely’s Autumn Pagan and Alternative Fayre (En; photos)

What I didn’t expect today was to attend the mini-NecronomiCon, i.e. Ely’s Autumn Pagan and Alternative Fayre at The Maltings: man, what fun that was! Wizards and witches in bespoke cloaks and hats and plenty of spooky joys, some of which I took home. I hope they will return next year!

Dad had always been awkward. His awkwardness, however, had never prevented him from being socially mobile and successful in life. There was no stiffness and arrogance in him, yet it was difficult for him to conceal his disregard of any type of deceitful nonsense: my guess is that I partially inherited his clunkiness. (I vividly remember my frustration amid any “small talk” with people when I was much younger: I sort of learned how to do it much later in life yet still don’t seem to see the point.) That is why it was always easy to keep silent in his presence and not to feel obliged to launch a discussion.

Yet we had plenty of them—truly, a lot. Dad’s ironic approach was nevertheless warm and welcoming, and I felt special when, being 9, 10 or 11 or 12, I talked to him about history or literature.

All day long I am constantly coming back to one episode from my early childhood: I am around five, playing with my friends outside (there were two of them, Vika and Zakhar, from my kindergarten: where are they now?...), it’s very sunny, although somewhat late (an everlasting polar summer day, as we are in Tiksi). We noticed that the door to a flat in a neighbouring building was slightly ajar, we went in and noticed a few toys in the corridor, grabbed them and started playing, then our parents called us. I ran home and showed Mum and Dad a tiny plastic doll, they asked who gave it to me and I answered that I took it from that place as the door was open. I remember that Mum got pale, grabbed my hand and asked me to show her the way to that door. I was freaking out yet complied, we went there, knocked on the door, someone opened it. Mum apologised and said that we came to return their things, the people inside a bit puzzled, but they smiled. I gave them that doll, they thanked us, saying that it’s nothing and they’ve been already visited by other parents, then laughed, and we left.

 Полгода сегодня.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 12 “Dziewczynka z konewką” (En; photos)

I’ve wanted to see this mural since the day of our arrival as this is one of the new—staple—sights of Białystok. As I’ve mentioned before, the street design of the city is very classy: whilst I cannot call mysel a true mural connoisseur, this particular work by Natalia Rak, “Dziewczynka z konewką” (“Girl with a Watering Can”), is beautiful and joyous (I took a few pics zooming in and out, so you can see the scenery and the details of the mural quite well).

“The French Dispatch” (2021)

The French Dispatch is a nice bric-à-brac compendium of sorts, where every étude, whilst aesthetically pleasing, feels a bit overwhelming as you have to almost manually unpack all the easter eggs (last time I remember something similar when I watched The Tulse Luper Suitcases many aeons ago). Oddly enough, nobody annoys me in there, and the “Student Revolution” part was hilarious and bittersweetly nostalgic, too. Sadly, the sardonic charm of the old New Yorker is long gone, so it was a proper farewell.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 11 «Свято-Николаевский кафедральный собор»

Свято-Николаевский кафедральный собор Польской православной церкви (Белостокско-Гданьская епархия) на улице Липовой, сразу же за Ратушей — одно из чудес Белостока, ради которого стоило преодолеть несколько беспокойных часов на поезде из Варшавы. Построенный в неоклассическом стиле, он напомнил мне беларуские церкви, в которых довелось побывать — те же орнаментальные византийские росписи на синем фоне и переосмысленная в эпоху позднего романтизма иконопись (в основном, виленской школы), красота и пышность убранства, тем более гармоничные, что задаются они самим архитектурным планом храма, и, конечно, рассеянный нежный свет, идущий от северного нефа к южному — даже в тусклый дождливый день, как сегодня.

Я снова спряталась здесь от дождя и долго бродила внутри: наспех нащелканные фотографии делались тайком, стыдливо, и на выходе мне стало неловко перед приветливой монахиней, продававшей у выхода свечки. Я молча выбрала красивую округлую свечу, вкусно пахнущую медовым воском, монахиня улыбнулась мне, сказала по-польски: «Помоги Господи», и мне захотелось ее обнять. Я тихо поблагодарила ее и вышла.

Польские tutti quanti: P. 10 «Собор Успения Пресвятой Богородицы»

Собор Успения Пресвятой Богородицы великолепен: я не большая поклонница барочных завитушек и в целом макаронического подхода к живописи и архитектуре (смущает избыточность, от которой быстро устают глаза), но в старом, семнадцатого века, приделе храма (там же и мавзолей-усыпальница рода Браницких, чей дворец находится совсем неподалеку) все это искупается живостью и неотчуждаемой непрерывностью религиозных практик. Снимать мне там было неловко: не хотелось беспокоить и смущать прихожан, пришедших помолиться в тишине, а их было много.

В противоположность старинной, маньеристской, части, новая — неоготическая, выдержанная в строгой Висло-Балтийской традиции, воздвигнутая в начале ХХ века, — выглядит торжественно и сурово: темно-охристая, из красного кирпича, церковь одновременно контрастирует с белым золотом эпохи позднего Ренессанса, и дополняет его. Особенно хороши витражи с изображениями святых, блаженных и мучеников из разных уголков Польши: все они кажутся абсолютно живыми. Глядя на них, в памяти почему-то сами собой возникают картины из вайдовского «Пепла и алмаза»:

- Умирать мы научились.

- Этого мало?

- Безнадежно мало.

Я захожу туда каждый день: иногда просто прячусь от дождя, а потом долго сижу и думаю о своем.

L.’s Birthday Chronicles : P. 2 (En; photos)

...and da feast!