On the wings of memories

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There was a house, standing on the fertile grounds where cabbage was big like a dinosaur’s egg, and wheat grew like women’s golden braids. There was a beautiful women and man, happy and rich. There were animals, cattle, hens, and cats and dogs everywhere, dogs on each and every photography, and among dogs happy people, young and smiling faces.

Then two wars have come, but inhabitants of the house managed to live on. A big house hosted everybody who asked for food and shelter, and there was a lot of food for all. There was even more young people, smiling and singing in the church on sundays, flirting, bathing in the river, taking their rich and heavy crops from the fields. And finally the war has ended, but the house and land has been taken as a private property. The piece of heaven has been stolen from the people who loved it so much.

Communists were farming it for some time, and when they were gone, together with the communism, somebody has bought this piece of land. A house has been rebuilt, gaining new kitchy look.

As always, beautiful dogs escorted us during our walk along the abundant fields, until we reached the hell. It consisted o fthe three not very lofty buildings almost without windows, darkness inside. A chicken farm, 3000 of suffering lives in each building. Never seeing the sun, never tasting the grass, newer having chance to walk even one pace. Crowded in the darkness, without feather on their wings. The smell which ran out of there did’nt resemble anything like animal – it was the smell of death.

Unexpectedly, woman who was raised in this house still visits the place, though her heart breaks. People who live there are good farmers, they are example of economic growth in Poland. Good proof for capitalism. When the chain of love gets broken, there are events like this: everthing is so good, yet everything is so bad, and nobody knows how to charm away the dark curse.

It recalls the Anslem Kiefer’s excellent nightmare landscapes:

http://www.saatchigallery.com/aipe/anselm_kiefer.htm

http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6334/4150/1600/619239/18.Kiefer.SixthTrumpet.jpg

 

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5 thoughts on “On the wings of memories

  1. Last fall I raised my own chickens because modern chicken farming practices sickened me. They had a beautiful life, which made me happy. Thanks for checking out my blog!

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