The second wave of the epidemic came in autumn. Atlantic in Galway has been pouring from the sky for several days and the roar of the wind wakes up me at night. But the cry of revolution from Poland is louder than the stormy sea and it echoes in my heart.
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I cannot imagine my life without a bike. Ever since I can remember, the bicycle has always motivated me to the adventure. Even if I was riding to the store on the same street.
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Who knows where it is:
the constant dogs, auroras, and wild gardens?
It is very, very, very close from here
It is there, where losing, no one wins
There is the lake and the peak in parallel
and I dance, I swim over, to the void - for nothing.
-sings Mela Koteluk.
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The catalyst for this article was an virtual meeting with Izabela Duchnowska, the initiator of a community fridge which she put in front of her artistic hostel in Wrocław’s Nadodrze over two years ago.
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In Galway, outside the window graphite clouds and wet asphalt. But in my kitchen, Spain is sitting at the table, because for several mornings I enjoy Pan con tomate.
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One afternoon, Destined / Namienionô – a bilingual poetry book by Małgorzata Wątor fell through the letter slot in the blue door of my apartment in Galway, Ireland. A first poem called to me in the corridor yet.
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Once again Ireland showed me that it does not take much to create the magic.
On the 1st of October is chilly and wet. I put on the Wave Maker’s orange jacket and get on my blue bike. Nothing is happening on Walter Macken Place, and the Mervue housing estate seems to be lifeless. I can see mold on the buildings and temporary road works on the street. However, when I look more closely, I can notice sunflowers in the garden and even a small greenhouse.
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