Story of Katia from Belarus
My name is Katia. I'm 38 years old and I originally come from Belarus. I'm a book illustrator. Before moving to Kraków, I used to live and work in Minsk and St. Petersburg. I've been living in Kraków for over half a year now.
What is Home?
Have you heard of synesthesia? It’s when one sense triggers another — like when a sound brings a certain image or feeling. I often experience this: a single sensation can awaken a whole flood of associations. Sometimes it even feels like these memories aren’t mine, as if they come from a past life. It’s a kind of déjà vu — a powerful sense of presence in something from the past.
I think that, for me, the idea of home is tied to this search — for sounds, images, and places that bring back this mysterious, familiar feeling.
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Books & Coziness
Kraków is full of bookstores. They have a way of drawing you in, offering a sense of quiet comfort. Each has its own unique charm, but Massolit holds a special place in my heart. Its coziness, the warm yellow-green light, the soft jazz music—it all wrapped around me like a familiar embrace. It felt like home. So much like my childhood, like the atmosphere of our house—books everywhere, wooden shelves, gentle lighting.
At first, the place seemed almost strange, as if slightly out of step with the world. But then I realized I wanted to return again and again. There’s something in it, something subtle and elusive, that reminds me of Bar "London" in Minsk. A place long gone, yet still so dearly loved.
Abecadło Bookstore and Childhood Memories
When I was little, I hardly ever traveled anywhere. The biggest impressions in my life came from books and vinyl records. Through them, I would imagine entire places, entire worlds. And maybe that's why now, when I see something that reminds me of those imagined places, it immediately stirs something warm inside me. Old towns, old brick houses — like the ones you find in Poland, in Kraków, — all of it brings back those childhood visions.
One such place for me is the antique bookstore Abecadło. Me and my husband stumbled upon it by accident, during a presentation of a children's book printed on an old printing press. It was a very warm, almost homely gathering that took place during the Night of Bookstores (Noc Księgarń) in Krakow. We loved it so much that we returned several more times afterward.
AbecadÅ‚o immediately reminded me of my childhood dreams. Maybe it’s a special formula: books plus wooden surfaces. Something deeply familiar, tied to memory. I’ve always loved places like that — where bookshelves, old wooden tables, and the soft scent of paper create a very particular atmosphere of coziness.
Planty: a Quiet Refuge
There’s something almost magical about the way the old town is wrapped in this green embrace. I had never seen anything quite like it before, yet somehow, it felt familiar. The towering trees, the scent of damp earth and freshly cut grass—something about it stirred distant childhood memories, though I couldn’t quite place them.
One afternoon, the sunlight filtered through the leaves in just the right way, and for a brief moment, I was a child again. That fleeting sensation of warmth and safety, of a world that felt whole and endless—that, to me, is what “home” has always meant.
I’ve come to realize that Planty is a kind of quiet refuge, a place that makes everything slow down. Walking its paths, I feel as if I’ve stepped into the pages of a beloved book or into the frame of an old, gentle film—one where I know the ending will always be kind.
Austeria Bookstore and the Scent of Paper
Books have always been something magical to me. Such a small, flat object — and inside, a whole story, a whole world. That sense of wonder has stayed with me to this day. I love not just reading books, but also touching them, flipping through the pages, inhaling the smell of paper. The scent of book dust is probably what home smells like to me.
The thing that caught my eye in the bookstore was their hybrid books—some combined poetry on one side and blank pages on the other, inviting you to read and write in the same volume. There are even books with nothing but white pages and ants drawn on them — I see things like that as true works of art. They seem made to make you pause, reflect, and feel something.
Lookarna Illustrations Gallery
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I must have walked past Lookarna Illustrations on Józefa 11 a dozen times — and each time, I’d stop. Sometimes to take a photo, sometimes just to see how they’re doing. As if the place itself is an old friend, and I’m checking in. It is enough for me to know it is still there, quietly glowing behind the glass.
I often feel drawn to places like this — not the ones in tourist guides, but ones I stumble upon by accident, when wandering without a plan. It’s that little "discoverer’s thrill" — when you find a hidden gallery or a tucked-away café and feel as if you have a personal connection with that place. Lookarna is like that for me. A soft corner of the city where something quiet and beautiful lives.
Revolutionibus Cafe
I love cafés in Krakow — even just peeking in through the windows. The warm light, the quiet atmosphere, the people inside… it always feels like something magical is happening there. For me, the word café has always carried a sense of mystery. In Minsk, there was a place I used to pass by that felt almost unreal — golden light, airships hanging from the ceiling. I thought it was a gallery or maybe something from a dream. Later I found out it was just a café, but since then, cafés have felt like something more — like something from a fairy-tale.
In Kraków, I was completely charmed by Revolutionibus in Podgórze. It’s a small place, designed so you can tuck yourself away: bookshelves built into the walls, with little arched nooks inside — like tiny reading capsules. You can sit there with a book, some tea or coffee, and just disappear for a while. It felt like a discovery. I think that’s my perfect setup — something small and quiet, where you can hide away from the world and recharge.
I generally love it that here, in Kraków, there are so many bookstores, including those combined with cafes. It's almost like a utopian dream of mine.