LIMOUSINE FOR FREEEADING 17. SAWA

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.

Coming back from the shooting, I found a shelf with books to exchange, including a few in English, with opening quotes. Guess what books these are.

CHABLIS

TO BE E & NOT TO BE E IN PAR IS

I already felt that maybe it wouldn’t happen now, but I went. Just in front of Paris, I found a large, completely empty parking lot with trees next to a gallery complex. In the early morning I hear a living alarm clock coming close to me and playing a Queen song. It seemed to me a bit of an exaggeration on the part of a perverse reality, but of course I accepted this… sign with the benefit of the inventory. When I arrived at the electro/jazz music festival, I heard a remake of “Heroes”, which somehow matched my awakening in the ParKing. The next day I met beautiful, older woman, another angel / doctor and musician with whom we drank a lot of coffee and talked about electro music, Persian diplomacy, my grandma, the meaning and coding of messages and generally the difficulties of intercultural life in unfavorable conditions.

BE T W EE N & BE Y ON D

DEAR IS PRECIOUS WAY IS THE EXPENSIVE WAY

France is not a particularly favorable country for gas cars. Sometimes you have to drive a lot to refuel. It’s not easy to read where it IS because it IS omitted or they treat you as if you were using a euphemism for petrol or diesel. I was standing somewhere behind/between, searching on my phone for detailed information about every station within a radius of several dozen kilometers, when the police stopped in front of me and started ‘admiring’ their brand. I explained the internet was weak here and the policeman lent me his search engine with his wifi. I took photos and we talked about fuel prices and the numerous ‘sleeping policemen’ in France. He concluded our conversation with one sentence: “Sir, everything is expensive in France.”

Not far from the Catalan border, I parked for a while to make some coffee, because it was getting dark and I wanted to go to the seaside. I wasn’t at all surprised to find myself parked among the mulberry trees. This time, red fruit, probably again. And once again I see that no one is particularly interested in these fruits, and they are supposedly so healthy. A similar rarity as in Poland with mirabelle plums, the jam from which is delicious, and I haven’t come across an official product.

L'E START IT

WAKE UP

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU FISH FOR

I drove into Barcelona for a while, but when I found a place on a hill, it turned out that I had parked next to a camper with a broken window and the owner was telling me, waving his hand in one direction, that he had left it for a while and that’s all “they steal terribly. If they can open the lock, they break the window.” I looked for comments on the Internet and it is actually, one might say, quite a lottery. So why tempt fate?

URBANOVA 24.06.24

ASSANGE FREEEAD. RETURN

WARS & SAWA OR/AND WAR/S/AWA

There are two legends about Wars and Sava. One is about a Mermaid with a beautiful voice what gave Wars a shield and sword and turned into a beautiful girl, the other about royal twins. Which shirt is closer to the body? Which, as far as this criterion can be applied, LEGEND, TALE, is closer to the sense of realization? Which one fits? And what can it mean? Or perhaps the two are connected and intertwined? It would be one of the most interesting TRANSplots, S/plots, PI/lots of legends, if the simultaneity of their meanings were made plausible / feasible. WHY NOT. If it weren’t for the letter “R” their names would be almost, exactly backwards, for example. backWARds.

I had a few favorite places in Warsaw, but nothing crazy. Otherwise I would go crazy. Escape from concrete at all costs, because it will overwhelm you and there will be nothing left for you. What can you say, they say that you are not smarter than a Warsaw resident, but he is tied to concrete like a jumper to skis. The most beautiful are, of course, the Royal Baths Park.

An oasis in the middle of Warsaw, Finnish houses in Ujazdów, but for the privileged. A couple of tenement houses in Mariensztat with a beautiful clock, an antique shop in Solec with tons of dusty books and Mrs. Hania to talk about theatre, among others. An antique shop Muzant on Warecka street, the Saxon Garden with a fountain and sculptures. And a super desolate, forbidden footbridge for gas repairmen, literally over the dirty, brown Vistula River near the Gdańsk Bridge. Not much in total, but still something. There used to be an Old Book Palace in Wola, a Wars cinema in New Town, a few initiatives in Praga, a few open houses, open parties for artists… But it’s gone. GONE. The rest smells from a distance of ‘Warsaw’ hype, like Zbawiciela Square or Hala Koszyki, and it seems to be a trend. TR END. For as long as I can remember, the village, poZEROing and MOONey have always dominated here, pulled by a tribe of differently abled people. What is incredibly paradoxical in this shit city is a unique precedent on the country and world scale, i.e. the Warsaw Uprising on August 1, 1944, and the culture of keeping this ACT UNFORGOTTEN. Compared to this progressive consumerist and dead culture, it was the UNIQUE. Unimaginable today. Respect for the heroes.

RETURN TO GAR/E/DEN. 1.07.24. E PI LOG

Several hundred photos over 10,000 km in 40 days through several countries. When you come back, let’s call it, from another dimension, especially one with such high density: variety of views, amplitude of events, WHISPERS, challenges, etc., in such a short time, it is good to take the basic steps of RETURN one at a time. To perform a certain ritual, if you wish. Simple acts obviously, ALSO or perhaps MOSTLY, have their unique reflection / meaning in REALITY.

After parking, first you have to be seriously surprised that everything is so beautiful, eat some different fruits, gooseberries, blueberries, black currants, and chase away flies and wasps from the cherries. Tear up any taller plants that are at risk with your hands and go to the porch. Wash the table, one, the other, the third. Wipe away dust, sweep the floor, and throw away the “fruits” of bark beetles. Walk barefoot. Collect torn flowers. Start bringing your things; computer, charging cables, fan, camera, disks, food. Set a dish on the table, lemons. Bring the guitar, tune it back up. Summon the birds. Bring notes, the Holy Bible, a cup with pens. Find the right electrician and turn it on. Check your old wounds, burns, scratches. Find aloe. Take out the laces and put on old suede shoes. Prepare the barbecue, bring spices and start living.

Remember you left never to return. Raise your hands up in a gesture of triumph, giving thanks for the challenge and the care. Listen to old songs / see something new in them. Watch a stopped, unfinished movie. Change the disk name from Mobile to Library. Wash your feet, wash your ankles. Trim your beard with an electric razor. Mow the grass. Light a fire and burn any unburned remains. Old branches. See through those who hide their intentions, contacts and interests. Keep the fire going all day and the next day. Fix what you can. In the meantime, eat fruit while you still have it. Sit under a walnut tree. Observe something, observe the sun. Reflect on EVIL. Clear the FOREST.

Around 7.07.24 butterflies suddenly appeared and began to accompany me. Whenever I had a specific / pleasant thought, a butterfly flew in front of my eyes for confirmation. It was the first time something like this happened to me. What to say… I AM willing to get used to it. This is a very interesting, light and enjoyable relationship. Sometimes even surprising.

I CAN NO LONGER FIND A PLACE FOR MYSELF IN POLAND

LAST 40 DAYS ALL SAID ONE WORD TO ME

On the first morning of 10.10.24 after leaving Warsaw before the German border, I went out with coffee.

German roads are simply awful. On the free highway it shakes the car and it jumps, and the roads in and between cities are also of terrible quality and often / dense blocked with no information for navigation apps. Just happened to hit a downpour at night and dozens of roads were blocked. I felt like I was in some maze from a cheap horror movie.