At first a giant brushwood slug came out of the jungle garden. It was neither a book, nor a verse thrown away from a poem where it didn't fit at all by a poet who observed only classical rules and forms.

Then an invasion of snailbooks took place, but it was easily overcome; the snailbooks turned out to be really disciplined and quite willingly got composed on the strictly limited area and gave up scattering all over the lawn. They were not afraid of rain, either; their shells were not calcareous and waterproof, but easily replaceable - this helped snailbooks to keep the good mood.

Other books were not that brave (well, they were not snailbooks) and they preferred to stay at home, together with the drawings which would like to be shown outside, in the sun, after all they had been drawn in the sun and they were missing the sun, however they were afraid of rain and wind though they already knew what the wind was like.

Then there was music. Deliberate, slow, a bit lazy, full of swirls and swashes, of convolutions. In the porch. A small harpsichord, oboe, drums, voices of humans and birds... No noise of rain - rain showed its indulgence and it was not raining. It seems a sufficient number of guests wandered here - not many. The Festival of Wandering organised by "Odnowica" Association takes places every year in between spring and summer. An edition lasts a few days. There are dance, theatre, music, ceramics, books, sculptures, installations, paintings, handicraft, actions, presentations... Each event in different place. Intimacy rules, cosiness dominates.