Selections from FM GALICIA
18.11
For a city to be considered a genuine, traditional, European city, two elements are required, which, in fact, define it as a city. A city may lack a sewer system and it will still be a city. But it cannot lack a fortification wall or a tower—two opposing things, whose clandestine duel is the very sign of the existence of a city. The wall is necessary to make the city stand out against a backdrop of fields, to distinguish it from the surrounding area, and thus, render it a tangible, noteworthy point on a map; the tower is necessary in order to oppose any forced demarcation of a city. It is essential to look out from a tower beyond the walls and see the neighboring territories and distant landscapes and even more distant horizons. Because it’s necessary to know from where the sun appears and to where it disappears to avert the thought that it just turns on and shuts off above one’s head at certain times of the day.
For the sun has a tendency to rise and set in beautiful and important places—above the sea, the forest, the mountains and the rivers. Looking at these places from a tower, city dwellers realize that they too could end up over there, that they passed through these walls voluntarily, and that they can, at least occasionally, cross its boundaries.
Ivano-Frankivsk has walls. But it has no tower. That is why each one of us needs to find his own tower from which the mountains can be seen. Because we’re not just a ditch lying between two rivers: we are a place, located below the level of nearby mountains. Only if they learn how to grasp the nearness of the mountains will residents of Ivano-Frankivsk obtain their tower, after which Ivano-Frankivsk will qualify as a city.
Through our urban worldview, the mountains can become streets, courtyards, squares. The mountains don’t need us. They are self-sufficient and immaculate. We need them very much. If only as images and as points of orientation. Because for us, the Carpathian Mountains signify a trip southward, towards warmth and life at its fullest. For us, the Carpathians are something which cannot be captured. They are the knowledge of a safe hiding place, of the most elemental respite, of the ultimate opportunity for escape, should it become necessary. The mountains are that neglected orchard on the edge of our yard. An orchard that we have not tended to for quite some time. But all the trees in that orchard are healthy and fruitful. Its existence comforts any blows. You are aware that it, if necessary, it awaits you and is ready to receive . . .
Translated by Mark Andryczyk