Nic_dwa_razy_w_szymborska

Marek lived his life as if he were waiting for a replay. He would sit by the same bend of the Vistula River every Tuesday, hoping to feel the exact same rush of peace he had felt one summer afternoon years ago. He wore the same wool coat, brought the same thermos of bitter coffee, and tried to think the same thoughts.

But the river was never the same water twice. One day it was a slate grey, heavy with autumn rain; the next, it was a shimmering ribbon of silver reflecting a stubborn April sun. Marek found himself frustrated. He wanted the original peace, not a new version of it. nic_dwa_razy_w_szymborska

He stopped looking for the echo of the past and finally heard the music of the present. As Szymborska wrote, we are born without experience and die without routine; every moment is a premiere. Norwegen | Hrafn Photography Marek lived his life as if he were waiting for a replay