Imagine a huge, autumnal colors and woven pocket. Pocket full of words. Sawn old age wanders the streets, step by step for a traveler in the coat, losing every moment - is a card that word, is a poem. Words enchant, beguile words, words seduce seeking warm corner for themselves.
drops of ink, which once took the shape of delicate letters, hitherto wgryzających in yellowed paper volumes, books, antique wall shelves przytulających - suddenly, in an atmosphere of panic rozedrgania and escape the structures assigned to them.
City udomawia poetry, the shape cobwebs draws a new map, spanned by the points where got lost and have found the word. Read the word, spoken word, the written word. The poems carry on with the urban space, being absorbable by the place - through walls, sidewalks - pedestrians gently stuck, wandering like a sad wind between their feet. Poetry successfully find a home for himself, though in that house - is not physically, assumes human emotion and goes on about the magic-słowić another corner.
Flats poetry, in fact - a flat, because of one particular I offer these words. Located in the old town of Lublin, ul. Golden. Apartment with the window open wide.
And in an apartment ... in the kitchen detail - nastrajający romantic, melancholy, strongly engaging the senses darkness, the old mirror the increasing glow of candles to wax stuck to the lush oak furniture, creaking slightly with modest breaths.
Poetry from the window of Ewelina Jurasz - poetry, escaping any form of tether, closure. Poetry, which focuses around them not only to the door stukających - zasłuchanych, but also those who heard the voice of women reciting walking down the street Gold.
"Dear" - the words of the landlady screams Rozewicz night - "do not look a wolf to man! Wait .. "What a surprise about the fact that response provoked the Lord standing front of the building .. "Maybe a poem?" - Says ...
Well, no line, and together we made the song ended that evening. After the event Losing just open a window that allowed the escape unexpectedly rows.
It is when the word finds its audience, living as it were ... is in the soul, in thought, in the heart.
js
IV Lublin City Meetings Literary Poetry, 1923-1929 in May 2011, Lublin
(text comes from the newspaper "The Fifth Wall" published during the festival)
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