Poland was a stranger to me and I suppose I still don't know enough about what lies beneath its ground, but a land bearing such a terrible scar in European History and with such a prolific literary production had to be visited. I read a lot before going, as many were the necessary readings to immerse myself in the culture and strong was the need for words and stories.
Krakow's and Warsaw's parks always marked the beginning of days, walking, observing every plant and constantly finding myself facing the complexity of photographing the grandeur of trees and wild nature. Marie Curie's character aroused my curiosity but being able to perceive with my eyes the objects and writings of Wisława Szymborska provoked a childish emotion inside me.
Cities in the evenings were filled by silences and few words. But the longest and densest silence was the one during the visit to Auschwitz. I was stepping on history, my jaw clenched and my body distraught by disbelief. It was there where we were able to show how low we can consider the value of a body in favor of profit, efficiency and gain. Terrible.
