7 Mp 1937 1929

FREE WEEKLY SUPPLEMENT TO OUR REVIEW NO. 127 (1937) MAY 10, 1929 IN WARSAW. (ISSN 2544-0187) CHILDREN’S AND YOUTH PAPER EDITED BY JANUSZ KORCZAK PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING CORRESPONDENCE AND MATERIALS SHOULD BE SENT TO THE LITTLE REVIEW NEWSROOM WARSAW, NO. 7 NOWOLIPKI STREET MY IMPORTANT MOMENTS (A page) Every person has many important play, because if someone’s ten, they your colors – red and scarlet, blue I found many new friends, and they heard some kind of a through in her moments in their lifetimes. Every are not nine or eight anymore.” and purple, green and aquamarine. all gave me many beautiful and great throat, through which she passed single one of them is important in its I started thinking about organizing I want to see you all, my moments. moments. When we walked together, her voice – “Altwark!” – with the own way, every single one is differ- my life and how it was going to turn out. I call all of you beautiful, both the bad we talked about one interesting matter. same tone, unchanged even after ent, and there are no identical ones. I had my hair tied with a wide red and good ones, sad and happy, grey The evening was cold and windy. We several years, still hoarse, deep Some of them are changes or spiritual ribbon; I wore a green wool dress with and emerald… Every single one of got to a corner and said our goodbyes, and monotonous voice with its own transformations. a red pattern on it, high boots and you left a deep mark on my soul. shaking our hands. melody. If only I could write sheet When I was six years old, I fell a red velvet coat and a similar red Invisible to everyone but me – you, “Your fingers are crying,” she said. music, I would jot down her yelling, gravely ill and I was sick for a long cap. I can clearly remember the little fleeting moments, you belong to me I looked at her, and she was telling since I heard her so distinctly that it time. My mom took care of me. girl who used to be me, and did not and only to me. No one will take you the truth. My fingers were trembling, still sounds deep in my soul. One night was the most significant expect that one day… away from me. and so was my soul. In those screams I see the eternal of them all. Everybody thought that I met a girl, who later became my Float towards me, beautiful mo- I had many bright moments, with worry of a monotonous life of the ped- I was going to die. Mom held me on friend. I’m not going to describe our life ments, and if any of you doesn’t want unsung songs and hymns sounding dler… After all, is there anything that her lap, there was a doctor and I don’t together. The year was full of important the world to know about you, fear not, in my soul like a magnificent fire and breaks the monotony of her everyday remember who else. A tiny night lamp moments. In spring, I started writing for I will leave you alone, hidden in powerful rhythm in my chest sounding life? Maybe from time to time she was alight. Everyone was whispering poetry, and in the summer we started the confines of my soul. like a bell. I believe that I could lift up will buy something at a bargain price, and moving around on their toes. Mom writing a novel together. There were moments of boundless the entire world and bring it up to the or sell something for more than she says I was unconscious, but I remember The project of the novel was created longing. I missed Bronka, the field, tall and impossible heights. expected. Every day in the morning everything. in the field during one of our trips to the apple tree, the ditch with forget- I feel blooming love, great love to she takes her bag and starts wandering My head hurt terribly, and Mom put get some forget-me-nots. The sun was me-nots, radishes from my garden, everything that is beautiful and good, around the backyards, announcing to cold compresses on my head. I don’t shining bright and hot. I remember the bright, silent thoughts and white bad and ugly… everyone with her monotonous voice remember what the doctor was doing. tall grains and grass, a ditch full of dreams. I missed the old fair hair, Snow was falling. It was spring, and that she is buying antiques… I clearly see my room, filled with frogs and snails, water plants, lilies blue aprons with flowers and starched snow was still falling. It was white, I would like to describe more of my mysterious light, full of mysterious and forget-me-nots. fabric dresses, my old spring poems, soft and it smelled like spring. I re- moments, since what I wrote here is shadows. The room was always bright The novel I started writing is buried the long-forgotten beliefs and trust… membered the “Jungle Book” and the just a small part of everything. There and happy; there was a lot of sun and somewhere deep in my drawer. There One day, going down the street “time of new speech.” I walked down are also those that I cannot describe, flowers. Behind the window, there are two chapters, strangely true. I saw something that was as lonely the street. There wasn’t much snow and there are more of them. was an apple tree, white from all the I strongly believed in that childish as I was, surrounded by darkness just on the sidewalk, so I walked down Murky streams flow along the beds snow in winter and all the flowers in novel. like me and strange, weird like me. It the road, right beside the sidewalk. It of the rails, spring, green in summer and colorful I left my town and went to Warsaw. was a small window, lit up at the top of was ankle-deep and I was very happy. A dirty sky stretches above the in autumn with colored leaves and ripe It was autumn. On the day before I left, a tall, gloomy wall of one house. The Spring revealed itself to me in white street, apples. Beyond, I could see only fields, we sewed the last dress. I was sup- evening was dark and misty. The wall winter snow. A tram squeals mournful songs on meadows and gardens. posed to keep it forever, but I lost it. could not be seen, blending into one The rain and the wind are vastly the turn, My eyes were closed; I often opened Back in the day we used to sew little with the sky, and only this small, lonely important in my life. So many times The corner lamp spreads deceptive them and looked at everything. The dresses for dolls. window hung up there, looking at me I used to walk slowly, breathing in the gleams. most important thing was – and I re- They walked us to the car, and off we in a friendly way. That was a beautiful tiny droplets on rainy days in autumn. In the rainy gloom, in the mud, a car member it the best – that Mom was went. I did not say a tender goodbye and solemn moment. Ever since, when Every time I have so many strange, rushes along madly, holding me on her lap. to Bronka, because I thought I was I felt sad, lonely and longing, I went abnormal and uncommon thoughts and And sprays brown droplets onto After that night I slowly started going to visit her and see her soon. out to the street and looked at that feelings. I feel and love stronger, or the passers-by. regaining health. And something Mum told me that Warsaw is not at small, strange window. And I felt good I don’t feel anything at all and every From up above, a small window, really strange happened – I did not the end of the world, and that I could when it looked back at me… feeling I have is reduced into one brightly lit, remember anything from my childhood come to Wieluń from time to time. New feelings appeared, and with undefined lump of feelings… Gleams and shines with a brave before I fell ill. Often the adults have The car started. I looked out the them came a wave of new moments. Today in the morning I had yet look in the darkness. memories from when they were four, window. Bronka was running after the I started thinking in a different way another important moment. For the A drunk, hunched-over vagabond three or even two, and my earliest car, calling my name. I stood on my than I used to think before. I formed first time I heard how the antique sleeps by the wall, memory is that fateful night. I only seat, because the window was really new dreams – and suddenly I could peddler yells “Altwark! Altwark! (Old Tightly wrapped in a tattered coat. remember everything that happened high, I stuck my hand out and waved understand all the pretentious people. things!)” Until now, I only had some A wet dog sneaks by, cowering, since I was six. at her, but soon we turned, and every- Back in the day, I could not under- auditory experiences, but today in the Hungry, lost, unwanted, alien, bent. This night is important for thing – the market square, the street, stand those who cried when everyone morning I really heard her.

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