pxl

A letter from

Dear stranger,

24th October, 2025 Kraków

I’m writing to you from, of all places, Kraków, Poland. It is a rainy morning. Still too early for tourists to studiously stroll around with their makeshift nylon rain covers. The supplier vans are making their rounds to cafes and restaurants, preparing the old town to look postcard-perfect for the rest of the day. The historic square will soon begin to offer that smooth time tunnel atmosphere, as if the past were a more harmless place. The streets are about to be ready with their exquisite beauty to comfort the tourists who have come to see Auschwitz. How many Polish dumplings, the famous comfort food, can soothe the lead-heavy darkness of those who have just visited the old wounds of fascism?

Ironically, my trip is also about fascism — the renewed version of it. I spoke about it yesterday in Kraków, and tomorrow I’ll be speaking again in another Polish city, Łódź. And once more, I will tell all those who seek hope that it will be our faith in humanity and our innate urge to create beauty that will sustain us against the dark cloud of radical evil. The political action will and can only come from our faith in our inherent beauty as humans. You see, I am in search of words to heal the human soul tarnished by contemporary fascism. And that is why I am writing to you. Do you still have words to heal humanity?