Time is running. People are changing places. Only the places are still. They do not move, do not change their location but they are not the same any more. The colour is bleached,
the bricks are missing what is left is the history. The place stays untouched only in our imagination. We try to remember the best of it. We try to smell it, see the colour, hear the voice and touch it with all our senses. It somehow helps us to be where we are right now. But places are not only brick, wooden or concrete constructions , they are people who were
born there, grow up there and died there. Those walls and roofs are silent witnesses of happiness and sadness, first kisses and last words, cry of joy and tears of dissapointment. There are hidden good and bad moments of those who lived there. They are made of plenty of stories which are meaningfull and thanks to them the places survive. Undoubtedly, places are legends, myths,
traditions, customs reserved only for them and thanks to them they have the spirit which makes them unique. Ligota Zabrska, one of the suburbs of industrial city of Gliwice, is my mysterious place. Hidden far from the city centre but close to the heart of the city- coal mine Gliwice – Sośnica. The place used to be the synonym of prosperity, the power of the region as coal was the most important product to export. People who lived there were mostly coal miners working in the coal mine. They lived day by day following certain traditions and customs. Hardly did they rest. Their work was hard and dangerous and their life was always in risk. But there was Saint Barbara who looked for them. They were surrounded by her holly spirit. Having trusted her they became brave and life was easier. For me Ligota Zabrska is not only a place of industrial matter. It is a house of my grandparents, my first words, first steps, first memories. Now Ligota Zabrska is a different place. The coal mine is almost closed. The houses are renewed. You can not smell sweat and tears in the air any longer. You can breathe healthier life right now but whenever I am there I can smell again the chicken soup of my grandmother, hear the shouting of my colleagues swinging at the playground and see the tired grandfather coming back from the coal mine.
The time has passed. The houses have new walls. But memories keep the place alive for everybody. There are as many views of Ligota Zabrska as people who lived there. The one you can see in this album is one of them. Due to those memorise the place remains untouched under the invisible sight of Saint Barbara.