The text below accompanied the exhibition of my books at the Andrzej Metzger second hand book shop in Kielce in the summer of 2006. It was printed on both sides of a large sheet of paper and was hanging at the window.


You are standing now on one side of this window and you can see the interior of the second hand book shop. You can see books standing on the shelves. If I were standing there instead of you I also would see the interior of this second hand book shop and the shelves with the books on them, however this interior would be a bit different since my eyes would spot other parts of it than your eyes, and read other titles among so many collected there. When you go inside and stand on the other side of the window (which then will be this one) then you will see the street. With no doubt your street will be a bit different than mine, not only because I will stand on the other (this one) side of the window in slightly different time of a day, but also due to not the same details that will attract my eyes and thoughts that will flow across my mind.

Reading this text you are on one side of it. On your side. On the reader's side. While myself, writing this text, I was on the other side of it. On my side. On the writer's side. Although this text should be the same for both of us, it is not. Not only because we can't see it in exactly the same way (you can see a bit more sharply than I or vice versa) but first of all because you are reading something else than I have written. You can read only what you can-want-must read, not what I have really written. It's a pity what we see is not what it seems to be. It is something more or something less. To make situation worse it seems to each of us slightly different.

It is interesting, but even me, standing on the other side of this text, on the reader's side, I will read something else than I have written. That's how it is and one can't help it.

So, there is a text between you and me. A sheet of paper covered with a text written in a language. Or a book. Or a music. Anything. There's always something. However it is interesting what is between a writer and a book. A writer on one side – what he has written on the other side. What's in between?
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 You are standing now on one side of this window and you can see the street. You can see houses and people. If I were standing there instead of you I would also see the street, houses and people, but the street would be a bit different since my eyes would spot some other parts of it, not the same people I would look at. When you go out and stand on the other (which then will be this one) side of the window then on this one side of the window (which then will be the other side) you will see the interior of the second hand book shop. With no doubt this interior will be a bit different than the one I saw because I would read not the same titles of the book on the shelves and not the same thoughts would flow across my mind.

Reading this text you are on one side of it. On your side. On the reader's side. While myself, writing this text, I was on the other side of it. On my side. On the writer's side. Although this text should be the same for both of us. It is not. Not only because we can't see it in exactly the same way (you can see a bit more sharply than I or vice versa) but first of all because you are reading something else than I have written. You can read only what you can-want-must read, not what I have really written. It's a pity, what we see is not what it seems to be. It is something more or something less. To make situation worse it seems to each of us slightly different.

It is interesting, but even me, standing on the other side of this text, on the reader's side, I will read something else than I have written. That's how it is and one can't help it.

So, there is a text between you and me. A sheet of paper covered with a text written in a language. Or a book. Or a music. Anything. There's always something. However it is interesting what is between a writer and a book. A writer on one side – what he has written on the other side. What's in between?