Cemetery in Wejherowo. This section dedicated to small children.
Growing up in Poland, I was never sheltered from the reality of death and suffering. I remember visiting the graves of my ancestors with my grandmother in the city of Sławno. We regularly swept their headstones, pulled weeds around them, lit the candles, and watered the flowers. When time permitted, we visited tiny graves of children nearby. Many of them, like butterflies, had lived only for a day or two. We talked about why they may have died. It felt mysterious and fascinating that I, a five-year-old, was alive. Grandmother remembered the love of her life – her deceased husband, and I went on ahead to play on the swing in the playground immediately outside the cemetery gate.
Many more photos from my recent trip to Poland and Prague on my Facebook page.