Aleksandra Urbańczyk: Before we talk about your work and
activity, I would like to ask you about your definition of an artist.
Małgorzata Południak: In
contemporary art, definitions are an illusion. Perhaps being an artist is also
an illusion. And seriously, I do not know anything about definitions. However,
it seems to me that being an individualist, someone who does not change their
views, wherever the wind blows from, gives me a sense of distinctness.
Distinctness could be a starting point for being an artist. In creation, the
artist is alone. Him and his work. The rest are ornaments, ego-feeding,
pretending. Art comes from reluctance, from obsession, from loss. R.G.
Collingwood, in his book The Principles
of Art, explains the difference between art and craftsmanship. Of course,
philosophy is only a medium for statements and proving theories.
Thanks to the fact that each one of
us fulfills his or her function in life, we simply have a job and decide what
is important to us and what is not. I once took everything very personally and
analysed it thoroughly, because I am The
Highly Sensitive Person (I like the uncomplicated multiplicity of
expressions of emotionality in English). Today, I don't think about it anymore
as a rebel, I simply allow myself to be. I am filled with doubts, so I read
what people connected with art have to say. Collingwood wrote that "the
beginning of creation of a poem is the poet's experience, requiring poetic
expression. However, it is false to regard an unwritten poem as an objective,
and the poet's technique as means. It would suggest that the poet, before
writing a poem, already knows what it is supposed to look like, just as the
carpenter knows what the table he intends to make will look like. This is
always the case with a craftsman. This also applies to artists whose artwork is
also a work of craftsmanship. However, this is absolutely not the case of those
artists whose work is not craftsmanship, such as poets improvising their
stanzas, sculptors playing with clay, etc. In such cases (which are
nevertheless examples of art, albeit on a modest level), the artist does not
know what experience is demanding an expression, until it has been expressed.
What they would like to say is not an objective, for which adequate medium
needs to be found. It becomes clear only when the poem takes shape in their
mind or clay under their fingers”. That is why there are so many craftsmen
around us, not artists. When a person is completely alone and is able to
express this desire resulting from an obsession, then, in my opinion, the
creative process begins. I think that by rejecting everything we have learned
in life, we are able to understand the essence of art and to be an artist.
In
your definition of an artist, you used the word "distinctness". We
understand it as "individualism, independence, personality, style,
exceptional character". Of course, you have these attributes (in a sense,
poets are also the "odd numbers"). But at the same time, when one
wants to describe your activity, the word "distinctness" does not
necessarily seem appropriate. “Distinctness" also means elitism. In
general, it is believed that the artist's profession entails the need to
isolate and “to endure solitary creative torment". Such an image does not
suit you at all. You are not a solitary artist. On the contrary, you are a
culture animator, a poet, a columnist, an editor-in-chief of an artistic and
literary magazine. You search for artists, you engage in dialogue with them,
you participate in vernissages (sometimes on-line), you share the work of
others. A lot of artists lock themselves up in their “distinctness", but
not you. And I do not only mean interpersonal contacts, but also your
creativity and inspiration. Obviously, you need to be in touch with other
artists. You once said that the artists need to observe each other....
I am not a culture animator. Someone
once wrote it about me, but I don't feel it that way. It is possible that, when
looking at my activities, a large number of which actually concern various
kinds of actions connected with art, they can be seen as such - as a kind of
culture animation activities, and yet, I do not identify myself with a group of
people involved in culture animation in a professional way, working in
community centers, in foundations and, therefore, performing all these
activities within the predefined framework, in accordance with the approved
plan. I feel a certain distinctness, freedom. Let us be clear in this
definition.
Enduring
solitary creative torment
- I think it is a stereotype. I am a friend of many artists and none of them
creates in pain. That is a misunderstanding. Perhaps it's a joke that suits the
way many people think. I talk about emotions, pleasure and satisfaction, I
don't feel anguish. I guarantee that my close ones, who create, find many
expressions to call the emotions from which the creative process begins, but
there is not a bit of pain. It is possible that somebody suffers from back or
elbow ache, then alright, that is a true torment at the time of creation, but
it results from a different cause, the physical pain. Anyway, loneliness is a
privilege. And precisely, I am a loner. I don't know where this belief, that I
need to be in touch with people, is coming from. In order to observe myself, I
don't need to have an artist facing me, it is enough for me to see their
painting, sculpture, artwork, and I was referring to it when talking about
reciprocity. I don't need conversations to be close to someone else, letters
and awareness that the person, who inspires me, thinks the same way is enough.
Increasingly often, I feel that I have nothing to say socially. Writing a blog,
where people leave their observations in comments, is another kind of
communication. It is not direct and it suits me right. The contact is in
writing and a face-to-face happens only once in a while; it's a huge effort for
me anyway, although it's also a great pleasure, and the effort is a result of
stage-fright. I love to remain silent. I haven’t had a TV at home for thirteen
years. I often sit in silence, read, work and my family does it too. And I keep
in touch with similar people. Formulas, constructions to which the people are
used to.... Is this really important? All this noise, meetings, networking,
activity - I was no longer interested in that. And don't look at my wall on
Facebook, there, I only gather inspiration and follow other people. Once I
wanted to belong to some group, I longed for acceptance, I wanted to be close,
because I wanted to understand the phenomenon of others’ activities, to
interrupt them a bit and to arouse creative ferment. Unfortunately, I bounced
off the wall. With time, I understood that we were divided by a sense of
aesthetics, social needs and interests. I realised that my imagination and my
hunger for cognition is something completely different, and in formal terms, I
moved away from them consciously and without regret. Is isolation necessary? It
just turned out to be. However, it is not essential, as, in general, I should
be grateful to those who have had an influence on this, because it is thanks to
their attitude that I rejected the entire cultural industry, which doesn’t
really offer much, mostly, only a false image of success. I care about readers,
relatives and friends (although in my case my relatives and friends are the
same people). That is why I focused on my blog and “sZAFa”. And sharing art....
who would I be if I hid the beauty in drawers?
Alright
then, let’s leave the big words. In fact, we are not talking about festivals
and nationwide events, we are talking about encouraging people to make creative
efforts, to cooperate in creating "sZAFA", to share works of poets,
painters and graphic designers. You don't have to take part in meetings to
influence people. Let us not call this "animation", let it be
"an open attitude" and "inspiration".
I
deliberately asked about the "need to endure solitary creative
torment" - and I already meant it as the most obvious stereotype! Our
conversation is the best example of what a difficult matter the word is
and how precisely one needs to use it in order not to be misunderstood. The
word is the poet's tool and material. He or she must express its mood and
thought (internal world) and at the same time has to reflect the outside world.
What does this process look like for you? How do you “mix paint” - how do you
look for words to say what is necessary? Is this a conscious process?
Yes. I can agree with the open
attitude and inspiration. As far as writing is concerned, we must be able to
penetrate the essence of the tool we use, which is the language - to understand
grammatical, stylistic and punctuation relationships. Moreover, without the
knowledge of theory, reading classics and a sensible approach to the very
structure of the word, writing is just a game, that does not bring anything
significant. You will not write a musical composition without knowledge of
notes or pure form, without certain skills, know-how and talent. The topic of
writing will never be exhausted, because this is something theorists and researchers
argue about. In my case, I can only say that poetry has always been troublesome
for me. These are still only attempts to abandon the learned forms. To
overthrow dialectic concepts that everyone has become accustomed to and to
constantly get to know myself. Because, in my opinion, poetry does not have to
do anything. For me, this is an area of great variety of interests and
obsessions. Of course, I am not saying it is like that for everybody else. My
cognitive abilities, emotionality, tension.... Continuous questions and
answers, functioning here and now, searching and using the timeless wisdom of
the classics... I can write to order, but this is the craftsmanship I mentioned
at the beginning, in the quotation from Collingwood. Poetry, however, is not
the same as columns or essays on art. Poetry comes and does not disappear, it
stays in my mind and sometimes I accept this choice. Then I embed my way of
expression, which can be quite hermetic, in the word. But thanks to that, I
remain in harmony with myself. In the area I chose. This is the sum of my
sensitivity, intelligence and interests. When it comes to vividity.... Look at
people around you and tell me who interests you. What is attractive about them?
Who would you like to face and get to know their taste? Words serve a specific
purpose, and what is or will be the purpose? There are so many things. Without
knowing who I am, what the world is for me, history as the cradle of life, I
would not be involved in poetry. This is my experiment and where it will lead
me, we will only find out in a while. I like to induce tension in people. Yes,
I like it, this kind of emotion still accompanies me in my poetry. All the rest
are landscapes, gravity and conscious use of the word.
I
am dwelling a bit on it, although I know how difficult it is to define certain
terms. And I know it from you. From your poem About definitions, from the Odd
Numbers (in this book you are grasping the essence of love through denial
of certain ways of expressing love, symbols and stereotypes that are sometimes
confused with, but are not, love). Or the poem Orange peels, also from the Odd
Numbers - a lyric that was created from what bothers. From surprising
juxtapositions: explosions and fireworks, earthquake, celebrating the New Year
and giving birth... These are some extreme human experiences, and yet it turns
out, that in the state of greatest joy or fear, our reactions may look very
similar, looked upon from afar... And let’s have a look at the Transformation, from the book Mullaghmore, as this poem perfectly
illustrates what we are talking about. It expresses the anxiety of an artist
who wonders how to articulate the world and the human, who is capable of
creating something as unimaginably dangerous as an atomic bomb, and at the same
time as trivial (and also awakening quite different impressions) as seam
stockings... How to narrate the September
with a dense paintbrush - since September is so many sensations (colours,
flavours, scents)? In this poem, you are talking about it; you are trying to
demonstrate what a difficult matter the word is, and how the world is escaping
any definitions... And emotions and tension? Can you identify the poem that is
important to you and that illustrates your "experiment" and your
emotions best?
You read the poem and analyse it
yourself, I'm not needed to give you any answers, they are in you.
Some time ago I met Sister Judyta
through the blog. She was a missionary and had returned from Cameroon to Poland
because of her illness. We spoke outside the blog. About life, diseases and
literature. At some point she became silent and I wrote a message asking how
was she. She wrote a short answer: write
a poem for me. At that time, I still didn't feel that it was that bad and
that we were actually at the end of her journey, but I knew I couldn't wait. I
had a text there at hand, I thought that its time had come and that it was
suitable for a nun. I sent it to her and waited. The answer did not come, so I
thought the poem was not good enough, I analysed the silence, inventing
hypothetical reasons. However, I did not write this poem for Judyta. It was
just lying there, waiting, until I decided that it was ready. The sudden surge
of emotions made me write another poem, About
moving on, which opens up as follows:"The poem for Judyta was not
about Judyta”. The nun was already dying at that time. In the course of
difficult chemotherapy, the text brought her relief. I will not quote the whole
letter here, because the secrecy of correspondence is important to me, but in
the last message she wrote:"Dear, please write, because your poems are...
I do not know how to name it, because I am no specialist in poetry... they are
true!”. She left in silence. Judyta is living in these two poems, she is an
important part of the volume Mullaghmore.
A holy traveller from Cameroon who looks at me every day. Anyway, poems
connected with people belong to them in a way, they are touching me and are
images of emotional states accompanying ordinary circumstances, they come from
conversations, from fear, excitement, learning and naming thoughts. Everyone
has a function, but forgive me that I will not analyse it.
Of
course not, but it is good that you mentioned it. The poem About moving on is remarkable.... It is a tribute and a testimony
to her mission. It really strikes the chord, especially if the viewer was
familiar with the addressee or read her blog... But Judyta is not the only
addressee of your works, because you like to address specific people directly,
and you have dedicated the entire book to the artist and your friend Basia
Trzybulska. It was the addressee of the book that I had in mind when I said
that the artists needed each other, in order to observe each other's art, but
also in order to observe themselves through others....
Homage is a too lofty word, Judyta
was a modest nun. This was clear, both in her work and the choice of missionary
path. I admired her devotion to children, her modesty and her reconciliation
with fate. Servitude is something like anointing, and this is the way I think
of her, of my holy saint, whom I met at the end of her life.
Basia began to read my poems and
gave them a deeper meaning by creating artworks with motifs from texts. When I
met her, I was enchanted. The closeness to nature, her distinctness, the way
she treats literature, her respect for what she does, and she is similarly
adamant in her understanding of art. We share our own obsessions, which are the
basis of our creation. The objects she made hang and stand around in my house,
assigned to different senses. She works with clay, I work with words. We
transform our work and give tips to each other. We do not force it, often it is
a result of conversations, quotations that catch our eye, or similar values
that we focus on at a given moment. I don't know how others measure the
intensity of cognition, and if they consider it important in their creative
work, what counts for me is the beauty brought out of nature. This unites us
and simply reminds us of the tendency to alienate. People express their
feelings towards each other in different ways. They make us step into their
world and see similarly, although we look at one point from different perspectives.
We do not have to say many words, we know that we are important to each other.
Basia is reserved, fascinated by the earth and nature, which I called the
natural conservatism. I find her strong commitment to clay and to what she
does, impressive. Thanks to her, I observe the island, and the sounds coming
from the ocean, very closely. We absorbed impressions, hence Mullaghmore is her book. Although
Basia’s favourite poem Travelling in
space comes from the Odd Numbers.
We do not act against each other, but we know the meaning of words and we both
know what we are doing in our homes. We base our friendship on solid
foundations, we build houses on them, we fill those with abilities, curiosity
and biological mechanisms. We record a variety of factors that affect us. Other
people, their creativity. It is not only about us two, hence in the book there
are other dedications and elements of the jigsaw puzzle.
It's
great you used this term because your poems are, in a sense, elements of a
larger jigsaw puzzle. Subsequent books are not necessarily closed and separate
units, there is a whole network of links. These are not only landscape elements
(completely natural, but never used exclusively for decoration). Binding
elements must be the people with whom you lead a kind of discourse sometimes
and also, your references to literature. The most striking reference leads to
Ingeborg Bachmann and her book Malina.
The poem about Judyta - given to Judyta - could not be written as a homage,
that is true. But the title of your first book (Waiting for Malina) and, later, the quotation in the Odd Numbers are a clear tribute to the
Austrian essayist, writer and poet. I don't ask if it's your most important
book, rather one of many important books (I don't believe that anyone can point
out just one book). In your case, this is more than inspiration, it is the same
kind of sensitivity and expression - expressing through torn scenes, a thicket
of thoughts and understatements. I will rather ask you, at what point in your
life did Ingeborg turn up (with her Malina,
full of a difficult, torn, dense, and, at the same time, restrained narrative)?
How long has this fascination lasted? Was it her, who made you express in the
form of a poem, or has your acquaintance started completely different, earlier?
Homage. I simply felt the need to
perpetuate. Besides, I do not use words that are inadequate, too pejorative.
Sometimes, some writers exaggerate emotions, and the effect is often
superficial and grotesque. This is what is happening nowadays, people in Poland
are divided into the attackers and the followers, they cherish the words whose
meanings they often do not comprehend, or exaggeratedly embellish phenomena,
using great words, with meaning that is not there. Naturally, I avoid the
trivialisation of emotions, of what permeates me for years. The value of some
words has been ruined because too much is being attributed to them. It is so
easy to cross the boundaries of aesthetics. I have no illusions that today the
meaning of many words has been distorted.
I don't know when I came across Malina, it was so long ago that it is
difficult for me to indicate a specific time. It is possible that Malina has always lived in me, from an
early age, and only reading Bachmann has made me name this masculine element
and use it in my poems. I got the book from my friend. I read and felt like in
a surreal world. It was a time of absence, so the content of the book became
perfectly arranged in my mind, and emotions were etching, to record what they
were supposed to record. I am still going back to Bachmann, but also to Celan,
to their letters. It would be hard for this obsession not to be reflected in my
poems. Fascination is still ongoing, and what prompted me to such a form of
expression? I do not know. My mind stimulates me to various activities,
sometimes I allow it to solidify in the form of a poem. I am strongly
experiencing the changes under way. I have a very rich life. I am not bored
with myself, I use intuition, imagination, knowledge. This interactivity is
ongoing and continues to demand new stimuli. I create rhetorical figures
because they diversify the tone of what I want to write down. The apparatus of
senses is still something incomprehensible to me, but I enjoy this blessing,
because why shouldn’t I?
But
then why did you change the title of the first book (from Malina no longer lives here to Waiting
for Malina)? It completely changed the meaning. The first one corresponded
to what accompanied this moment of your life, when you were radically changing
it. Move to the island. Publication of your first book. A great change. The
previous title encrypted everything, including anxiety and uncertainty, closing
certain matters....
I didn't change the title, it has
always been Waiting for Malina. Malina does not live here anymore is
the title of the afterword you will find at the end of the book.
Recently,
you published another poetry book - The
first memory of the great famine, dedicated to Kasia Tchórz. Her image is
on the cover. She is another important person in your life - a friend, but also
an artist close to you, with whom you have a lot in common. She cannot be
missing in your self-portrait. What brought you close with Kasia Tchórz? How
did you come up with the idea for your joint project, Przedzieranie (Breaking through)?
I met Kasia through Jacek
Witczyński, founder of the Artpub virtual gallery. He invited me and Kasia to
create a joint exhibition. The main theme was Rhinoceros, but there were also other
motifs. The presentation can be viewed and read about on the Artpub website.
With Kasia we have a lot in common, we share interests and passions, our
friendship continues. And, as I wrote earlier, by dedication, I show the other
person that he or she is important to me. I dream of publishing an album
presenting artworks by my friends and my poems, but in the current publishing
environment it's not that easy. It seems to me that without artistic
friendships, the poet suffocates a bit and does not see the afterimages, that
accompany visual artists. Without the cognitive process, it is difficult to
notice the desires and those values that motivate us to act. The links, the
roles that we shape in ourselves, our motives, all that is a synthesis of who
we are. We are approaching people that are similar to us, hence this observing
each other. We provide ourselves with appropriate remarks, correct each other,
review each other, it is an evolutionary process of creativity. It is very
useful when a person is constantly developing and searching.
Today
the Rhinoceros is already a symbol, one of your distinguishing signs. Who came
up with the Rhinoceros?
It is one of the longest living
mammals on earth, so it was not me (laughs). Yet, it is possible that people
today will contribute to the extermination of this species. By faith in
superstition and by greed. Many artists embody rhinoceroses. I highly recommend
the film Rhino Season with Monica
Bellucci, it is a poetic and extraordinary image of alienated and endangered
overly-sensitive people. How easy it is for the death to destroy a delicate
creature. I think that the mass murder of protected animals will lead the human
race to extinction, right after the death of the rhinoceroses. It may take some
time, but in nature nothing goes unpunished. I observe how the climate changes.
By cutting down forests and jungles, we are reducing our oxygen. Elsewhere, the
burning of tropical forests by palm oil producers leads to a global ecological
disaster. Hard coal mining industry, heavy gas and dust production. Melting
glaciers. The observant ones are watching closely what is happening, but the
country leaders are passing responsibility from one to another. Nuclear trials
in the oceans, water pollution, the death of coral reefs, ritual killing of
whales, do I need to say more? We poison all that is around us, as much as we
can. We will really not get away with this. I am really concerned about this
and, in my poems, I often mention people's’ participation in the destruction of
the world. Without a global interest in ecology, the Earth will die and,
together with it, all of our art, literature and music.
When
I think of you and your work, I am constantly remembering the title of book by
Czesław Miłosz - Life on the Islands.
According to Miłosz, poets live on metaphoric islands. The island protects, but
it also isolates, this metaphor can be understood in an appropriately ambiguous
way. You are a poet who fits in this picture not only metaphorically, but also
literally. You have settled down in Ireland, its culture and landscapes. It is
not a kind of a shallow embrace of the new place. Ireland's landscapes have
rather expanded your "colour palette". In those, you have found ideal
references, illustrations to your own sensitivity, emotions and kind of
expression. Thumping waves, harsh cliffs,"embedded landscapes" that
"fall into the sea" - they perfectly illustrate what's tormenting
you, what you're constantly coming back to.
I asked
about the Rhinoceros (I know, it was a dilettante question), and thanks to it
we have pinpointed the essence of your creativity. Because it extensively
reflects the fear of what will the future bring. You notice that a human is
unable to draw conclusions from warnings, you stumble over "something protruding.
Cracked doors, bent balustrades, smoking chimneys". Let's assume that
mountain climbing is a symbol of a struggle of a human who still has ideals, a
symbol of his or her hard work.... In your eyes, people no longer want to make
this kind of effort. They don't even walk on flat terrain anymore, they choose
the easiest way, downhill. And they do not see the danger, because "it
seems that when it is downhill, it is easier to get there. Straight to the
ocean”.
For the sake
of balance, you also write poems that offer us space for relaxation. You flee
to Mullaghmore - a special place, unspoiled by civilization, not connected to
the net; a real place, and at the same time (as the reader thinks it is)
separated from the past by some sort of semi-transparent curtain; a place where
it is probably the easiest to "cross the barrier of reality". How did
you discover Mullaghmore and what is it for you?
I was on my way "to Yeats". I took a look at the
map and I noted down locations that were important to him. It turned out that
Sligo County is very well-prepared for tourists and offers a route that has a
special designation and leads to various corners connected to the poet.
However, I was more interested in seeing something that was off the beaten
path, because that is who I am. I read in one of the books about Ireland that
in Mullaghmore Bay, IRA members murdered Prince Mountbatten in a terrorist
attack. I am interested in the influence of the colonists in Ireland, hence the
desire to go to these places and recreate, in my mind, what this might have
been like. And when I arrived there, I forgot about the royal family. I saw the
space that captured me completely. Cliffs, wavy ocean, silence, wilderness.
Beautiful flowers, peat, mountains. I laid down on the grass and I died there.
When I opened my eyes again, I knew I would be returning to the peninsula. That
there, I will breathe fully. You cannot live in Ireland without studying its
history. If you love somebody or something, you want to know as much as
possible about them - about the place, people, generations, stones, plants,
animals. Every corner, river, lake, waterfall takes on importance. Precise
cutting of words so that they move in the eyes and imagination, according to
the pulsation of the ocean. Images from here, smell of wind and earth. Of
course, the images are sometimes perceived differently, but this is already the
reader’s job, not mine. I know what I grafted into the poems, and that’s that.
What will sprout from my island in words? Each emigrant lives in a different
way. Getting down to make an effort is more than just talking to your fellow
countrymen. But I understood that I am only responsible for myself and my
family long time ago. Evening reading of books out loud, conversations,
engaging in life. Getting to know, observing and participating. In one
conversation it is impossible to explain every desire that has become an
obsession. The hunger of these people, when the potato plague consumed the
fields. The revival of what the colonists had been trying to eradicate, in an
aggressive way, for years. I identify with this life. Dramatic, but also
beautiful, enlightened and brave. Here, I don't actually have to look for
stimuli, they turn into emotions. Practically everywhere, there is a house or
an entire settlement, abandoned over one hundred and seventy years ago. There
are so many signs.... With them, I feel stories, tales and specific events.
Some of them awaken sadness in me. Despite the beauty of the surrounding area.
I stand and play slides in my head. I say mothers' prayers silently. I return
home and write down the words. And I don't know what is the essence of my
creation - the vulnerability of the people who lived here and were murdered by
colonists or fishermen taken away by the ocean? Swarms of birds or human bodies
floating on the water? I don't know whether the dread of these places has had
an effect on me profound enough to be able to write about the essence, which is
the life I have here and now. Freedom I learned in view of this beauty, on the
island, made me somehow detached from consumerism. I am looking towards myself.
I feel free.
*
I find bookmarks in the books
along with the recipe for grilled salmon and Irish stew.
I like silence. When I read poems about the murdered
wolves, converted into English whiskey barrels,
trees, I wonder how much blood has fed the heathers.
Savagery marks the limit of impotence, as if I were staying
in another world discovering pests. One after the other.
Glistening scales. Shadows that absorb obstacles, nomadically
determined entries and exits.
We are sitting close together in a bright circle of light,
reflected from the basalt shapes submerged in peat.
A damp corner, flooded in the ocean during the winter. On the other side
Achill cliffs. I see children falling out of their mothers’ hands.
They are slouching around us dancing and make us watch out.
What were they like? In a place forgotten by God. Huts without chimneys,
plates of elderberry leaning over the stone walls.
We are singing forgotten songs.
The dog’s barking in the distance. The neighbor’s staring at Hollywood Wives.
The boarded up building is protruding on the other side of the road.
The tourists are sending cards. Piled green waves or jumps
with the parachute. You can see the cut out Éire. Sea pinks,
two sides of the rock.
Malgorzata Poludniak
Malgorzata Poludniak – a Polish poet and editor of the ArtPub Kultura.
As well as being a columnist in the 'eleWator' magazine. She published
collections of poems Czekając na Malinę (Waiting for Malina, 2012), Liczby Nieparzyste (Odd Numbers, 2014), Mullaghmore (2016), Pierwsze wspomnienie wielkiego głodu (The first memory of the great famine 2017).
"Look at people around you and tell me who interests you. What is attractive about them?"
OdpowiedzUsuńRozmyślam nad tym: co może fascynować nas w innych.
Ciekawa jestem, jak to jest u Ciebie :)
Usuń