Imagine a place in the middle of Poland, somewhere between
Warsaw and Cracow. While strolling through the city, the feeling of melancholy spreads within you. Greyish concrete blocks, a
smattering of houses and lone supermarkets set the scene. In the
morning hours, few children can be seen running to school. During the day, some people are out to do their groceries. This being here, does it feel tender to you?
When you walk the streets after dawn, some people pass, but they walk too fast, their faces blur in the darkness, as if they were afraid of something. Lights are on only behind a few windows. What can you see? You recognise some gestures, banalities of everyday life: hugging, leaning, kissing, sensual embracement. Some dysfunctional moments, perhaps. Ambiguities? But what is your desire to see?
Despite everything appearing warm and cozy, you have a keen awareness of the complexity this place harbours: an absurd, constant feeling of discomfort and tension. As if expecting a brutal explosion of emotions at any moment.
