Maybe there’s no such Prague at all. It’s just being born within me, within us…?
We get off at the Praha Florenc bus station. What a beautiful and intriguing name – I think, though I don’t know yet, that this is what Prague will be like today.
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We’re sitting in the kitchen on Piaskowa Góra at poet Anita Jagodzińska’s in Wałbrzych, a Greek salad for breakfast, pickled ginger, peaches, and cherries. Coffee, of course, already brewed in a glass coffee mokka pot. And we’ve been chatting away from the morning about poetry. Haiku is landing on a soy pâté sandwich. And Wałbrzych, the scariest city in the world – as the local taxi driver told us – carries us with its leisurely yet magical rhythm.
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It’s a bit chilli today, so I throw on a khaki sweater and sit on the mint-colored rug on the balcony next to the lavender and rust-yellow yarrow.
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Let’s celebrate the life because this is the great thing we have
Patti Smith tells to us from the stage of Galway International Arts Festival.
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I’m walking through the city, holding a lemon tree in my hands. It’s quite large, and I’m holding it up like a banner of joy.
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Society is every contact between one person and another. All the events, past and future, that come about because two people cross paths.
from What You Are Looking For Is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama
I’m sitting on the sofa in a floral dress, but wrapped in a blanket. I don’t really feel like going out; clouds are enveloping me, even though it’s Resurrection. So I force myself to poke my nose out. I put on my coral jacket. After all, my city is always waiting for me.
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On Thursday afternoon, I enter the tenement house at Ruska 46A/101 in Wrocław, intending to visit the BWA Gallery. However, on the ground floor, my attention is drawn to the glass door and the sign “Toy Piano Gallery”. I open it and suddenly my breath is taken away. I can see several hundred small upright pianos and grand pianos. They look ancient. And, in contrast, to my left, the innovative Cristal Baschet with its large yellow tubes – its eyes.
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Is loneliness the color blue? I wonder this on the blue tram number 18 when I travel to Popowicki Park in Wrocław.
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Is sadness blue? Can you hear it at Shinjuku station in the heart of Tokyo? Or does it become a leaf in the ginkgo avenue? Does it always hurt? It’s impossible to capture. Because it likes to hide in a song, or warm up when we drink cold coffee from a can. It’s a part of our lives. And according to writer Nanae Aoyoma, it can also be cheering.
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Continue reading(…) my memory
if I don’t keep you in it
we will disappear forever
from song “disappearing”