This post is dedicated to Agnieszka
Yes, my life is made of little things. I like to discover them from graphite time when clouds and crows look to my window. So, sometimes I have the day marked of crispy bread, or, like last Friday, marked by notebooks. Then I feel simple happiness. Although it is fragile, I do not want to bind it, because I know that somewhere, once again it will charm me with its small motion.
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May the darkness within you recognize
there’s hope for clarity paths ahead
from the Imbolc blessing
Heavy clouds hug the beginning of February, the rain does want to stop. And the lockdown in Ireland will be until March. The crisis is perching on the windowsill along with green mold. Therefore, instead of looking out the window, I stare at Instagram, and I recognize a familiar symbol in the photo – a square cross made of rushes.
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Recently, I have been wearing corduroy trousers again. This time in Tobacco colour. I find in them lines from poems, cigarette smoke from student days, and the fragrance of Cracow. Because dust from many places settles on the corduroy, and between the stripes is my character – a pinch of nostalgia, rebellion, and the amber sun.
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Blue Monday was introduced to the calendar as the most depressing day of the year by UK psychologist from Cardiff. January is probably very gloomy and wet in the Welsh capital located on the Bristol Channel, major inlet extent to the North Atlantic. I can imagine it because we have in Ireland the same, even worst.
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Recently, I have been translating the poems of my favorite poet Michelle O’Sullivan into Polish again. The first piece from the book The blue end of stars is preceded by an interesting quote from the Czech poet and scientist Miroslav Holub. In surprise I find the answer that I have been looking for so many years.
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I went to Lisbon impressed by Wim Wenders’ film Lisbon Story. The blue-yellow city situated on the hills and the red Ponte 25 de Abril bridge over the Tagus river appeared from the plane’s window exactly like in the movie.
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A January morning on the northeast coast of the Atlantic is getting longer. Galway’s roofs shine white, not rain. I make coffee and I open a special book that my friend sent me for Christmas.
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Feelings are roads, with different colours and surfaces. In New Year, I arrive on a skateboard. A ginger horizon stretches before me. Colours are signposts, although they keep changing, I like to follow them.
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A few days before Christmas Eve, the rain drips into the morning coffee. Graphite sky instead of the ceiling in the kitchen.
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Volunteering connects diverse people because helps us to break out of the comfort zone. This is always the beginning of the adventure with the community but also with ourselves.
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