‘Marble’
This is a clear invitation. Every perspective line, every road leads inside. Row of red trees standing at attention will lead us inside. For years they were fed with blood and demons.
With this photo I gathered all three gates protecting Red Army Officer’s Cemetery. It’s time to visit people, who are tragically bound to this place by death curse.
‘Salvo in honor of…’
I so much wanted the silent cannon to shoot once more. For the fallen ones. For people, whose blood soaked this martyred soil. My comrades in the sky helped me out a little, giving me fire and smoke I needed.
The second gate reveals this unholy place from north. Every socle is protected by steel veterans, standing proud despite of age. Those tanks saw the 1945’s liberation of Wrocław with their own, wrinkled eyes. With their fire red flags on polish ground were brought. I pity them so much. They won’t shake the ground again with their overhelming thunder. Losing power is so much more terrifying than being forgotten. It’s the worst curse.
‘Filth’
Darkness under me, over me, behind me. Smell of crap and urine around. Filth of human body and mind.
When the light is gone, you are no longer bound by temporal rules. As the spotlight is broken, you’re no longer an actor in this constant theatre. Nobody expects you to be better, to try harder than before. You’re alone with yourself. No expectations, no true example to look up to. It was so easy to give up years ago, in soviet age of mediocrity. And it still is. When wisdom sleeps, simple instincts take over. That’s exactly what happened here. Will you go down? It’s so easy. Go!
‘Necropolis’
This place was calling me for a very long time. Guess I belong here. When I complete all three gates, we will enter this cemetery where Officers of Red Army lie. I could see them there.
Painful death occurs, when you lived life that didn’t belong to you in first place, even if for a moment. The demons from the gravestones whisper in the ear, hiding their temptations in melody of icy wind. I’m going with them, I’m sorry.
temeria-or-bust asked: Your latest photo, what kind of aircraft was it? And where did you find it? Its peeked my curiosity.
I had to go deep into my memories to make sure I’ll tell you the truth.
It’s Lim-2, known as MiG-15bis. This little fighter was produced in Poland under USSR’s licence. I found it on ‘military graveyard’ close to an Army Museum in eastern Poland a few years ago.
‘Coffin’
Abandoned bird lost wise steel shine. Stained glass forgot its sparkle, resembling dulled eyes of a goner.
I took this photograph when I was a kid. That wasn’t long ago, really. Desecrating a graveyard was my initiation.
After all, it’s not about how much time has passed, but how long the journey was.
combi31dailypics odpowiedział(a): Where in Poland is this?
It’s the famous Hala Targowa (Market Hall) in Wrocław, city where I currently study in. Acquring this place was a true revelation, as its outside made of burned brick didn’t promise such monumental interior.
‘Dreamdealer’
Glowing with blazing gas inside, lover of cold night. In the world of grey even the slightest trail of colour was like a glimpse of a better world. Wonderful promise nobody ever expected to be fulfilled.
Seducing with vivid hues, the neons sold nothing but dreams. I bought quite a lot of them. Should I be broke by now?
The neon presented above is one of very few such remanants of soviet times in Poland. Years ago there used to be hundreds of classy neons all around the city, coming in incredible variety of colours and shapes. Now it’s only thanks to nostalgia living in people’s hearts that several survivors still illuminate the evening streets.
‘Insure your home with Common Insurance Company’!
qbnscholar powiedział(a): Wow. Great shot. Great story, which reflects how history is often erased. Plus, the structure is over a 100 years old? Looks so modern.
You got a good eye, Fernando!
The Market Hall was build around 1910 and became a silent witness of German and Polish history. Even then it was pioneer construction, far ahead of its time.
But wait… why would it be presented on SovietGoner in that case?
In 1983 the place was ‘renovated’ in a very typical soviet taste. Its dumpy construction became stunningly monumental, even though it sunk in crude market stands. During the years of People’s Republic of Poland it completely lost its old, bourgeois spirit. Nothing changed to this day.
Powerful edifice, isn’t it?
‘Ribcage pt.2’
Skeletal construction formed by vertebral column, sternum and ribs. Contains heart and pair of lungs inside, protecting those most vital organs placed in thoracic cavity.
It was interesting experience to shoot in local Market Hall, juxtaposition of vivacity and cold stilness under one roof. Not too many people seem to rememeber about it’s over 100-years long history when running their errands there. It’s utilitarian role completely overshadowed crude beauty of concrete skeleton above our heads. It was very noticeable, as I was treaten as local curiosity when trying to find the right composition. Some folks were making fun, some others came to chat and joke with me. But there were also some very few people who rised their heads high enough to finally see and feel. I was pleased.
‘Ribcage pt.I’
Do you know where we are? It doesn’t really matter, just take a look around. You’re not alone, yet you know that only for you, only for a brief moment this impressive space is empty as if it was for a whole century. Magic happens only inside one’s head. How many times have you missed a silent beauty and unspoken wisdom, keeping your eyes down not to fall when living your life in wanton hurry?
Keep your head up sometimes. You won’t find happiness you’re looking for, but you still might get something of an equal worth.
‘Lucid’
I open my eyes. Oily puddles under my feet. I’m here again, in my dreams. Why out of all possible places is it always railway station? I’m utterly alone. No… it’s rather just a feeling. Loneliness, a chill piercing to the bone.
My coat flutters as trains sail through the trackway. They are all empty. I don’t want to travel by any of them, containing nothing but obscurity inside. I’m waiting for the one and only, so indefinite. When it finally arrives, why won’t stop at my platform? My open hand won’t reach it’s bright surface. Are the doors locked?
I close my eyes again. Darkness wraps around me. I’m home.
‘Iron Cage’
Be cautious, the Big Bear is always watching!
Looking through the bars at this harmless creature takes me back in time, when such ‘Bear’ was a very significant symbol and personification of USSR’s domination over my Motherland. This place gives me goosebumps.
