... I can still remember well this image from my childhood. The places and objects of nearly magical power. An old villa, in which my grandmother used to live, changed into a tenement-house. Hours spent in the yard - bathing in the greenness of the garden; an intriguing moment of one spring forenoon.

The discovery. Old, memorial photographs placed by the dump. Thrown out and useless but composed as if not by accident.

... the secret world of the sepia heroes. I felt strange when they glanced, preoccupied and indifferent, apathetic and impatient, dressed in the garment of duty and authority. As if they were serving the master who was the moment. I can’t remember for how long it lasted. Long enough to put the tent of the memory over their and my past and future ...

I kept the negative made of glass and awareness of the expense which I was going to pay on behalf of the memory absorbed by the implacable time. These places, in the distant town, haven't existed for a very long time. However, the moment exists, like a painting of ourselves hung up in the memory.

Maciej Stawiński, "Memory and remembrances" 1987