I was born in 26.07.1969 year on the back seat of delivery truck „Robur”, on the road between Tucholskie Borons and Lima.Birth was fast and painless, nobody besides me noticed him (I found out later that in similar circumstances Siddhartha Gautama called Budda came into the world). I’ve spent first moments of my life on the road, in vapours of fumes and in rumble of ruckle’s engine. This traumatic experience lay down shadow on my relations with different people, my character and most of all my motorization’s interests. Trip to Lima got interupted and my family with their new member settled down in Bochnia – town full of gold seekers and jewellery institutions. „When I was a child I played in the school field corner – completely alone, I hated dolls and games. Animals didn`t like me and birds flew away. When someone was looking for me I hid behind the tree and I yelled „I’m an orphan”. I do not remember my first school. B.Mussolini High School in Bochnia was my second school. I attented it for three years. Classes in school were held in italian and german language, black shirts and woollen socks were obligatory (girls carried artificial beards – to this day I don’t know why). In third year I was dismissed disciplinary – the reason was social scandal which I allowed to happen, my romance with oldish Defensive Adaptation class teacher miss Helga Schmit (I keep picture of her in my leather wallet. My memory about her muscular torso and imperious glance give me shiver from excitement. What could I’ve done, I hid Duce’s medallion in my pocket, I packed my backpack and I came back home). As you can see love disturbed me in obtaining education, my plans of studying veterinary medicine, my dreams about respect and stabilization were blurred and reality showed new face. I was moving from house to house. I sold herbs and delivered newspaper. I was fortune-teller and cook on ship called „Miruna”. Life was going on, wind lash my face, shoulders hardened by heavy work and black beard (inheritance after my Serbian’s ancestors) – so that’s how I was looking. If not a coinsidence or if you preffer calling it karma I would stay nobody, no known figure, grey bread eater or in the better case I would have become professional driver. At first sight not that important event – a series of events – caused that champion of ZEN stood in my path in her cashmere waistcoat. She was called Ozer Czenma and she was from Srinagar (her waistcoat was only thread which was connecting her with world that I know) body was covered with tattoo introducing complicated mandhale in the center of which was a place called „ALEF”. In within couple moments, couple days and months I broke against her emptiness, I got lost in abyss…in order to move back again on the road. She gave me camera, we were training speed-tightness of it’s shutters, koan of overexposed film and and transcendent sharpness of depths. My journey is lasting five years already, I’m writing to you from another stop, words are becoming more and more illegible – I take pictures..