foggy morning –
all men walk today
with their heads in the clouds


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June 2009, vol 5 no 2  

Iga Gala Miemus



Do you sometimes have a feeling that the reality which exists here and now is already in your memory. Had already happened. Only the details of the landscape are different, but the asphalt burns bare feet the same as hot sand on a road that used to lead to my grandparents’ house. House, in which I had a dream that had been the most vivid memory of my childhood.

dream opens
house wide open —
you are defensless

Never have I been happy more with waking up than in the white walls of my grandparents’ room.

Nobody screamed, the garden had not been trampled by military shoes, I felt safe once again.

It was coming to twilight and I had to end my journey inside my memories. Memory is a private vehicle for time-travel. The only one faster than light.

traces of foundations
shapes of rooms
filling the air



parasolka –

wiatr od morza

porwał cień


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