That day in Warsaw I met with my namesake, a woman of great intellect and sensibility, the philosopher Monika M. We had coffee and shared a pastry, briefly discussed my visit to her class at the Art Academy, her work, my work. I showed her a book I received as a gift maybe the day before, a book based on another book and about the turbulent life of a woman who lived a long time ago and more than anything wanted to be a writer.
And then I had to run. Or perhaps she did. This was back in October of 2015, a time of much expectations and excitement. Everything still seamed so very possible. Attainable. Within reach. Upon my return back to New York I fell back into the grueling schedule with a renewed sense of determination. Oh but those proverbial winds of change rustled already somewhere in the distance.
Photographs are a map to both the past and the future. Looking at them is the present.