The names of my city

In my imagination, I sometimes take a freedom to have Solaris-like meetings with the ‘ghosts’ of my friends. It involves imagined memories of how we went to see my workplace, or some places in the city, or walked through the forests, or just talked and were happy. This is different from having a dream, as there are no expectations. In reality, they’ve already said that seeing my lab would be totally irrelevant for them. Or they can hardly walk so much. Also, maybe some time later (if ever). So what wrong can the fantasy bring?

One of those trips is walking through the places, which bear some memory of the insurgents of the 19th century. The thing I’m most happy about, this is my own part of the town. In fact I live in a district which was in the suburbs during these times, but I only need to cross a couple of nearby streets, and the journey begins.

Here, in the New Town, Konarski, Sierakowski, and Kalinowski, prominent figures in the history of resistance to the Russian Empire, are mostly known as the people who have their own streets that kept their names for decades already. I could not resist casting glance at the bus stop. Once you have it, you are never forgotten, however very few would look beyond the sound of the name.
Also, a flower market. At least it includes a selection of burial wreaths.

( 14 photos and story )