We expected the sun to come out from behind the clouds. But that the wind will fly away, and not a single drop of rain fall. WOW! 😊
Continue readingIreland on a day like this
Green dress for the Emerald Island
Oh, my life changes every day in every possible way – The Cranberries sings, and I could notice a young shamrock emerging from the darkness. I see these little boutonnières pinned to hoodies and waterproof jackets. Because today Saint Patrick is cleaning up on the island after winter.
Continue readingKnockma Hill and the Light Shining Through
On Saturday morning, the rain drips into my short Americano, which was made for me by a great barista at Jungle Cafe. The grey beginning of March still keeps me in suspense. Can I finally enjoy my way home?
Continue readingBroadcasts “Wyczytane do Białości” are like moonlight.
There is a gray December Saturday in Irish Galway, but no rain, so people walk around smiling. The Italian cafe is busy, and suddenly I remember that I haven’t been to Dominik Street in a long time. So we go there with my friend Aga and as if by magic we land in France.
Continue readingAt the Bob Dylan concert
Monday woke up gloomy with some seed of dark mood, and with a gale ate at the breakfast.
Continue readingStaring at the Stars
I remembered how is the feeling when you stare at stars. There are thousands of them, in front of a small white cottage with a red door in Connemara. We raise our heads up and contemplate sparkling points on a brisk night at the end of October.
Continue readingI learn how to write a reportage
There is a good time for everything
Blue wings sprout from my shoulders when I start to write. Then on Saturday morning, I fly for a coffee, even though a hailstorm rages on the streets of Galway. In the Portishead hoody and with the sketches of the texts under the cap, I feel like myself and I know that this time nothing will stop me. Because here I am at the dream reportage course led by Polish journalist Marcin Kącki.
Continue readingAmor y Amistad
The weekend started with friends. Opening by an Italian coffee with Aga on a happy Woodquay Street. And the evening with Bia and Jack who brought us a plant straight from Brazil.
Continue readingVisitors on the island
The end of summer lights up inside me like lamps on the ceiling in The Secret Garden, where we write poems with Martyna sipping strawberry-lavender tea. Galway plays the double bass, winks, and introduces itself to us again. Because when guests come to visit me, I also become a tourist for a moment.
Continue readingTea Sugar A Dream – Thank You, Turkey!
The last morning in Turkey is lavender and pink. We are awakened by the sound of the Sea of Marmara. The first boats set off to Istanbul, the neighbors meet for a morning swim. We leave the room to the sandy shore. Ulvi our host from Efe Cafe has already prepared toasts and teas in bell glasses. He lights a cigarette and tells us about his everyday life in Silivri. In a moment we say goodbye in Turkish: Güle güle and leave the gate carefully so as not to run into a cat that has a bath under an olive tree at the corner of the street.
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