CULTURE
Freedoms BY JESSIE MORGAN
T
he picture was buried in a box, found among her parents’ things. She never saw it before, but decided that one long look was enough. Digging into the past, she resolved, was more painful than she thought it would be.
It brought a certain darkness to the photo, a shadow over her mother’s radiant smile. There at the tram stop was what remained of a multi-story building. The wall of the building was dotted with void windows, shattered from bullet holes.
Behind them stood a background she did not remember, nor did she want to believe.
Well-used and well-loved, this prayer journal belonged to Joanna's father. “Under the totalitarian Communist dictatorship, you had to
It was the ruins of Warsaw. It was a tram stop. Cars were going by, some of them older than others. Her mother, Zofia, posed in a flowing flowery dress, white blouse and sunglasses. Standing in front of her were two young children — Joanna Matlak, three or four years old, and her brother in a little hat.
PRAYER BOOK
hide your faith for fear of negative consequences," Joanna says.
Joanna Matlak leans back in her chair on the upper floor of Murray Library. Her short hair rests in silver waves on top of her head and her dark eyes are full of memory. Her hands are folded in her lap. “I do not want to call it Poland,” she said. “We were Polish…but this was a Soviet Colony.” She lived in the People’s Republic.
This is the story of her family. THE SWINGING BRIDGE
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