Here’s a quick study in contrasts with very little commentary because sometimes the pictures do the work of all the words.
My son’s birthdays measure both his age in years and my own evolution in motherhood, which continues to be a breathtaking, exciting experience.
I’ve posted pictures of the sky before, but I’ve never posted any of the ones I took in March of 2023. Here they are, all eight of them.
I’m pleased to announce that my translation of a Zbigniew Herbert poem has been featured in a book by Wojciech Sadurski.
I took these photos in Copenhagen’s Vestre Cemetery and I love they way they reveal grief’s private, affectionate side.
Did you know that light can be reflected again and again, many times, illuminating the shadows with the sheer force of physics?
The war next door has me thinking about the symbolism of those energetic and hopeful Ukrainian colors. May they be a sign.
A post on self-love in three parts, inspired by my adventures with paper folding and informed by my misadventures in love.
The end of one year has me taking stock of how I’ve been living. The first days of another bring me inspiration to invite what I desire.
A glimpse of white linen and periwinkle silk on an al fresco summer date inspires me to wonder why I am moved so deeply by this sight.
Drinking tea is a daily habit of mine and a constant source of pleasure. In this essay I take a part-poetic, part-analytical line of inquiry.
In this placeholder of a post I write absolutely nothing of any importance, yet I am inclined to think that this itself is quite telling.
My celebration of this unusual year includes a dozen self-portraits I took today and some thoughts about the way 2020 was my time for change.
To write what I want, about what I choose—this is independence. To photograph my city my way. To live on my own terms. Yes, in Warsaw.
As pandemic polemics drown out all other noise, everything becomes part of that chorus. Here are a few of my quiet observations.
Some connections are especially meaningful precisely because they are not deliberate. Here’s one linking two paintings by Agnieszka Zawisza.
A boy’s ninth birthday inspires contemplation of how this unlikely milestone marks not just the child’s life but motherhood, too.
Summing up a trip that transformed both a mom and a son is a task for mixed media, metaphor, and leaving some things unexplained.
One of the ways I remember my father is through poems he loved and ones I wish we could have read together. Here is a handful.
On the evening of the summer solstice in 2018 the Warsaw sky revealed extremes befitting the occasion. Here’s what I observed.
Flowers are my favorite gift, a great subject to photograph, and always more than the sum of the stems making up an arrangement.
In this essay I turn my analytical tools toward the phrases I sometimes record upon waking from my language-driven dreams.
Some inspiration from a glimpse of the Mokotów sky caught one half hour before sunset and minutes before a burst of rain.
On ways that working has eased my recent suffering, or rather the completion of work, the proof of my capacity for it.
Days before the year’s close, another dismantling was on display. Here is my words-and-images record of this remarkable event.
A moonshot of an observation inspired by a shot of the moon captured on the evening of my son Anker’s sixth birthday.
This southern view captures more than an instance of weather: it is a document of the senses reveling in the crisp, clean air.
Read about the Różewicz poem fragments in the film by Nałęcki on display as part of the Wróblewski retrospective at MSN.
This year, my birthday gift for dad is a dedicated translation of the lyric Urania by Polish poet Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz.
Here’s a favorite of mine, which I first discovered on a New York City subway ride in 2003, along with my Polish translation.
For more go to blog index and make yourself comfortable.
In this essay I turn my analytical tools toward the phrases I sometimes record upon waking from my language-driven dreams.