the breeze. The murmur of the water calmed me, weaving itself into my subconscious. I kept walking. On the other bank, a hare ran across a field, stopping at the sight of me, ears propped up like furry ferns, tiny nose flickering up and down. There we stood, the two of us, motionless, taking each other in. Finally, he turned his head and hopped off.
It did me good, this walk. It reminded me of the aimless ones I would take in Wroc?aw, when I could no longer stand being in the same space as Granny or at school. There was nowhere I could be without being with others, having to interact or to act. Even on my walks around the block, neighbours greeted and appraised. There were times when I’d get on the tram and ride across the city. I would get off at the last stop, in a neighbourhood where no one knew me, and I’d wander, not thinking, looking at the unknown streets and houses and people and feeling free and anonymous. Like an unwritten piece of paper. I’d forgotten the pleasure of this, and then and there, by the river, with the fields stretching out before me and the camp far behind me, something of that freedom returned. The water was clear and at the bottom I could see the bed of pebbles and light-brown mud and small fish swimming to and fro.
I continued on, not thinking about where I was going until I stopped, not quite knowing why. There was something large moving in the water. Someone was swimming. The back of a head – black wet hair glued to it – moved away from me and I stood and watched, seeing without being seen. Broad shoulders and fine back muscles moved in a quick, confident crawl, head underwater, coming up for air every couple of strokes. Before I knew it, the figure had turned around and started to swim in my direction. It got closer and closer with each move. The sun was behind me, and I threw a long shadow on to the water. As soon as the figure swam through this dark stretch, it stopped and raised its head.
You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and stood up in the water, which was only waist deep.
‘Hello,’ you said, sounding like you didn’t know who I was. Streams of water trickled down your torso. Your body was slim and strong, your chest and stomach drawn with lines and divisions, their own rules of gravity.
‘Hello,’ I said, torn between wanting to run and watching you.
You squinted and held your palm flat over your brow against the sun behind me. ‘You’re from our group, no?’
I nodded.
‘I’m Janusz,’ you said with an easy smile. You seemed almost offensively comfortable standing there. I was the one feeling naked.
‘I’ll let you get on. Didn’t mean to disturb.’ I turned to leave.
‘And you?’
I turned back around. ‘Me what?’
You laughed. It was a light and joyous sound, self-sufficient and contagious. ‘You have your head in the clouds, no? Your name.’
I laughed too, feeling myself blush.
‘I’m Ludwik. Ludwik G?owacki.’ It struck me how little my name meant to me, how absurd it was in its attempt to contain me.
You nodded. ‘Nice to meet you properly. Don’t you want to try the water?’ Your arms moved around in it. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Thanks. I don’t really swim.’
You looked at me funny. ‘You don’t know how to swim?’
I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not it. I just don’t like to do it.’
‘Not even in this heat? Why not?’ You laughed, incredulous, your smile mocking and charming.
I shrugged and walked a couple of steps backwards. ‘Maybe another day.’
‘OK,’ you said, nodding. ‘Another day. I’m here almost every evening.’
‘See you, then,’ I said, walking off. After a few steps I turned around, despite myself. Your body was gliding through the water, leaving a trail of ripples on its surface.
The next day I saw you more clearly than I had before, as if you’d been drawn against the background of the others. I let myself look at you, watched you at work and when you spoke to the people at your table, especially the black-haired girl with her Western clothes. There was an inherent elegance to your way of being, an ease with yourself and the world, as if no fear had ever penetrated your mind, as if the path you walked on was pliable and ready to be moulded by your feet. And yet we