There are times when my grandmother potters along quite normally. Other times when we’re not sure she’ll be alive the next day. Every night about seven-thirty she hovers near the … Continue reading No More Change
Giewont towers over the length of Zakopane. His legend is pertinent; partially because it’s still yet to come true. The legend goes like this. Somewhere under the sleeping giant is … Continue reading Where?
Hania is a wily figure. Whereas Antonia is bird-like, her sister is different. Antosia made it clear that she never wanted anything to tie to the modern world. She still … Continue reading Bratki
Antosia and Hania live underneath the sleeping giant, Giewont. It’s the closest residential lane to where the National Park begins. The view from our bedroom window upstairs is of Giewont’s … Continue reading I’m Not Learned Enough
Meanwhile in town and despite the dense summer crowds, my grandmother had to peruse every section of postcard-based tourism. Lulu and Delphine found this as fun as licking tar. Every … Continue reading Lapis
Antosia doesn’t like photos. Doesn’t like being flattered. ‘Save it for the funeral,’ she says. She likes it when you tease her, tell her the truth and when you keep … Continue reading In My Place
‘Your grandfather used to come here with a plan for every day,’ Pani Hania, Antosia’s younger sister said. ‘He’d have it written down on cards. ‘On Monday it would say … Continue reading Giewont