Posts by Blue Tram

What home means to you?

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The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

Maya Angelou

The orange light of sunset behind the curtain, made bed, heather-covered hills, a mother’s hands, a kettle on the stove with laundry drying above it, relaxed cat, people hugging, shoes, glass bottles of homemade juice, the ocean (…) Various images remind us of home. We come from different countries, but we all live in Galway, and we are united by a Photography Exhibition “Home” part of Eastside Arts Festival organized by Hugh Murphy.

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“White Locomotive” in Łazieniec and in us

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And everything is happening now. Only once.

Just look and listen to not miss anything from this moment.

-sings Jerzy Stachura Junior at the 24th Nation Poets’ Meeting “White Locomotive” in Łazieniec, in Poland. The red, yellow, and purple light of a September evening illuminates the stage and poet Edward Stachura is standing on the road with a bicycle next to his mother. Life, happening here and now, and gleams.

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Visiting Yeats Tower

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On a sunny Sunday in August, I sit at William Butler Yeats’s table, writing a few thoughts for the master. On the desk lies many of loose sheets of paper, a pen, a quill, and an inkwell. Light streams in through the green-framed window. I reflect, smile, and look at the red and yellow flowers in a vase. On the sideboard are old books and the poet’s blue teapot.

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Ramble of London Camden

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The train arrives for St. Pancras International station. –This is London, your final destination – I hear over the loudspeaker, and I feel a tril. Moments later, we’re traversing the narrow underground corridors. And we’re getting off at Chalk Farm. What a beautiful station building.

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Frida Kahlo Wings

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Why do I need leg when I have wings.

-wrote Frida Kahlo in her diary. She got polio as a child. Then she had serious bus accident. And after complications, she did have her right leg amputed below the knee. However, this didn’t stop her to living life to the fullest and becoming the greatest Mexican artist.

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Helsinki without make up

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You don’t have to keep up with everything, rush here and there… you can just be, look around until you see.

I get on tram no. 4 and go to Katajanokka Island. The oldest district of Helsinki, where the writer Tove Jansson grew up. When I get off I go up the street, but suddenly I decide to go one more stop. I notice another green vehicle, I run and a boy who is walking on the sidewalk, runs first to catch this tram for me.

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