in pandemia


I'm in my archiv. I've recalled the flood in Sandomierz. Back then, it was like something happened somewhere out there, hen far over the horizon, that had an impact on our lives.

More and more information with numbers was flowing in, more and more difficult to comprehend records were being achieved. The atmosphere was thickening unhurriedly, emotions were growing together with the water level in the river. Until the dykes were released. Time sped up, the action began, everything was happening before our eyes.

What is happening now in our heads is in a sense similar, only the scale is larger, it affects us all. Another wave of information arrives, I don't know what it means, but I feel that the foundations are being undermined, that something is seeping through, that it is already here. On the other hand, the state is acting, decisions have been made, the strategy has been implemented, I have submitted to them like most Poles. I work at home. I have school at home. Or maybe I work at school. Or maybe I have children at work. Never mind, the important thing is that everyone is healthy. I'm waiting like most of us for the continuation. I hope that the wave will not harm us, will not take away our loved ones, it will simply pass like everything else and we will get vaccinations and support from the state.

I try to maintain balance and hygiene of thoughts. To protect myself from other people's paranoia and my own - caused, for example, by politics. These emotions don't matter much for a while. I think so because all this has already happened - although we don't know it yet. The machine has started, the wheels are turning, it's just that this complicated mechanism has a certain inertia. It takes time to see the effects of so many variables.

From the floods in Sandomierz, I remember a landscape of overwhelming emptiness. A desolate, dead land ruled by a higher power. I remember the uncomfortable realization that if the engine on my back goes out, together with my paraglider over my head I will also succumb to that force, end up in a swamp up to my armpits and need help. All it takes is a speck of dust in the fuel to stop the carburetor and I can go from being an observer - who came just for a moment - to being a participant of the events. What I photographed was far from the man, far from his scale, close to his feelings and personal situation. He was not in the pictures. Maybe that's because for people, the real flood begins when the water subsides.