We drove from Zawiercie to Kraków, and without a radio in the car I spent time listening to my mother as she tried to recall a world that seemed so alien to her. Though my mother had grown up less than an hour away, her family had never visited, another reminder of the isolation of life in small-town Poland. As we walked in the late afternoon light my mother seemed anxious, and it became evident that it was impossible not to feel the thrust of her history pushing at our backs. Knowing we needed time to decompress before continuing our quest, I spent time in my room trying to relax and shoot some pictures. Bryan Ferry was playing on MTV while the wind shuffled in through the double window. The clock barely moved, and the air grew still. I tried to sleep but could not dislodge a gnawing sense of foreboding.