Two orphans escape from their torched home in a small village.
The village-its history, language, and culture-has left an indelible impression with me.
So much of the sentiment I have for this region of Poland spin around, for a lack of a better word, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.
Thousands were forcibly removed from their ancestral lands to live in another country.
Each seems to harbour a sense of sadness buried somewhere inside.
Melancholy? A feeling of pensive sadness? Perhaps.
Even Ukraine.