Friday, February 01, 2008
1 February 2008. Gentle winter sun, after days of rain. Golden light from eastern hills. A white van zips up the slope--El Cerrito Electric. A line of gray Hondas follow. Morning patience of each buddhist chauffeur. Just in front: a young man with desultory walk, face hidden in gray folds of cotton--smiling to himself. A story, perhaps--or something recalled. Do the young remember? Wajda's film--at 81--Katyń. Another vision from the east. Byelorussian woods. Engraved on each conscience--the names--matka, ojciec, brat. Stack of rough bunks, heavy timbers, four high in a darkened room. The weight of time. Pokolenie, Popiół i Diament. Kanał. In the words, the fields, in each living soul...
Posted by Anthony Dubovsky at 8:35 AM
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