Shoot me!

by Vera Lazzaro (Italy)

Making a local connection Poland

There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland - you never know what you are going to find, strolling around holding a hot trdlo in your hands. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland - it doesn't matter how much anger and hatred have wandered the streets, you can wander just like they did, and wonder how such evil could ever have found a place in such a town. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland - there is music everywhere, Italian music badly sang by laughing man, classical music after the footprints of dancers, the majestic sound of hooves against concrete and stone, cries and words in different languages. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland, a man sitting on the outside of a restaurant, his beard as white as a child imagines Santa Klaus's, his clothes from another time, the look in his eyes as ancient as gentle, the musical instrument singing under his fingers and command magical. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland, this man looking at everyone who as much as nods in his direction, "Look at him, my baby, look at history made flesh", "Let's give him a penny, shall we?", but he doesn't need nor want pennies, nor zloty, nor euros, there is no hat to fill, just music to listen to. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland, a thing I'll never forget - how this man looked at me straight through my camera lenses, how he smirked, one eye closed, one bright, how, in broken English, but perfectly good understanding, he murmured a "Shoot me, girl!" loud enough to be heard, soft enough to be our secret. There is a thing about Warsaw, Poland, a thing I'll never forget, a body and memory I bring with me every day, a picture in my phone, in my camera, in my laptop. I made him eternal. I shot him.