House of memory
There are places of our childhood we would like to come back to. For me itis my grandfathers house in Nowa Sol in Poland. The family used to spend summer holiday there. The house was different than anything we ever saw or experienced. Brought up in an overcrowded and anonymous blocks of flats we knew little about the intimacy and bonds between people living in a small spaces. The house was full of wonders forus. The attic, basement and even staircases gave a large field for exploration.
My grandfather passed away ten years ago and the flat was sold. We said our goodbyes then, prepared not to see it again. Since then the house and its surroundings have become a symbol of my lost childhood. Despite the best efforts, the memory of it started to fade. One night I had a dream that the house had been burned down and we searched debris to find objects belonging to our relatives. I became curious about the place and if it had changed much since my last visit there.
My grandfather passed away ten years ago and the flat was sold. We said our goodbyes then, prepared not to see it again. Since then the house and its surroundings have become a symbol of my lost childhood. Despite the best efforts, the memory of it started to fade. One night I had a dream that the house had been burned down and we searched debris to find objects belonging to our relatives. I became curious about the place and if it had changed much since my last visit there.
