He stopped looking for the echo of the past and finally heard the music of the present. As Szymborska wrote, we are born without experience and die without routine; every moment is a premiere. Norwegen | Hrafn Photography
Marek looked at her. He thought of the poem’s lines: “No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kiss.” nic_dwa_razy_w_szymborska
One evening, an old woman sat on the bench beside him. She was humming a melody that sounded vaguely familiar—a song by that set Szymborska’s poem to music. He stopped looking for the echo of the
The woman smiled. "Why would you want a copy? A copy is just a ghost. If today were exactly like yesterday, you wouldn't actually be living today—you’d just be remembering it." He thought of the poem’s lines: “No day