Młynowa — the final chapter

Młynowa — the final chapter

I’ve uploaded the last photos I took around Młynowa Street in March 2009. I don’t have any more. Each of these frames is close to me, because most of the old fabric of my hometown has been mindlessly destroyed over the last 15 years — but among them I’d single out three that matter most, and one to which life recently added a final chapter.

Treehouse

First — the treehouse. I’ve lost count of how many times, walking down Kijowska, I wondered whether some dad built it for his kids, or whether it was put together by a bunch of teenagers — some crew led by a “Gray” or a “Kid” — from planks and bits of old wardrobes. In summer the treehouse disappeared into the riot of weeds and shrubs growing over abandoned yards; in winter and early spring it turned dark, like a big bird perched on a branch. It always moved me somehow — a clumsy structure that was at once a castle, a pirate ship, a bandits’ hideout, and above all the dream of every kid from those days.

Flocks

Second — pigeon lofts. There used to be lots of them right next to the housing estate where I lived; today only a few remain. Pigeons are a childhood memory: you could see them from our apartment windows, a circling flock flashing every moment like a school of fish above the blocks. Add to that the architecture of the lofts — a practical expression of recycling, paired with a perfectly executed function. Wonderful.

History

Third — a matzevah. One day I went to the spot where a tenement building had just been demolished on the corner of Kijowska and Grunwaldzka (where there used to be an electrical shop), and I tripped over a stone slab with a characteristic rounded edge. It was left after the demolition; someone used it as a step or a piece of flooring. I managed to flip it over so the inscriptions faced up, and everything became clear — a piece of a gravestone with a fresh scratch from an excavator bucket spoke for itself. Knowing tangled history is one thing; experiencing its tangible traces is something else entirely.

Reconstruction

And finally, a postscript. The building at Młynowa 23 stood for years partly by miracle and partly by sheer willpower, and it was listed in the heritage register. Could that have given hope that it would be restored and survive developers’ greed? Maybe — but certainly not in Białystok. Here, you destroy heritage and then build a brand‑new imitation. And what can you do, when there’s nothing you can do?

A screenshot from Facebook posted by my excellent colleague Andrzej, showing what left from Młynowa 23. Andrzej knows more about Białystok than anyone else. I especially recommend his project Osiedlownik.