The idea for a degree piece inspired by Rafał Wojaczek’s works arose out of my passion for his poetry, but the main impulse came when I came across the poet’s letters previously unknown to me. The 1960s in which he happened to live was an interesting scenographic challenge (especially a journey through bars of better and worse categories), and so was the confrontation with the co-creating role of scenography, with an attempt to translate poetry into images. My Wojaczek is my effort to tell how I sense his literary output, his painful disintegration, hypersensitivity, the human need for a myth and legend. And this omnipresent white like gypsum angels, like white sheets folded into cubes, like milk, bones, a wedding dress, or a trip to nowhere.