Opole, Poland; my hometown. I went there briefly, unexpectedly, recently; for a funeral. I won't go into the sad details; but I will say that I have gained perspective. Life and death matters make other concerns pale. I have been taking time to reflect and come to terms.

Since moving from Newfoundland I have been thinking a lot about the concept of home. Home is, essentially, where you make it. I didn't know when I left Toronto that I would be coming back here, but now that I have, it is like coming home. My parents house, even though I did not grow up there, is home. Going to Poland is like going home. I have no memories of living there; we left when I was two. The language is home. I have my mother to thank for the fact that I can still speak Polish and I am grateful. My vocabulary is not diverse but I can communicate. Living in Polish is like walking around in a sleeping bag: warm and comfy, if awkward:)
I managed to get out for a few walks with my Dad and my Aunt while I was there. These pics are from walking around Opole. I am interested in contrasts; visually as well as conceptually.
I took a lot of pictures; I am still going through them. More soon I hope.